Out of Sight
by dust on the wind
Summary: Hogan and his men didn't blow up the bridge, and the Underground didn't blow up the bridge, so who did? Newkirk may be able to work it out - if only he can get anyone to listen to him.
1. Chapter 1

_How could this have happened?_ he asked himself, watching for signs of life in the man lying on the hospital bed. The patient was breathing, but only just.

Newkirk was feeling numb. His hearing was curiously muffled, as though the explosion that had landed him here was still ringing in his ears; any attempt to move made him dizzy. That didn't matter, though. What mattered was that motionless body, clinging to life.

"Wake up," he said. "Come on, you silly bugger. Wake up."

But the patient did not respond. Newkirk had not really expected him to.

He became aware of someone standing in the open doorway of the hospital room, and felt a wash of relief flow through him at the presence of his commanding officer, even though he knew there was nothing that Colonel Hogan could do.

The Colonel approached the bed. He had a worn look, as if he hadn't slept.

"Oh, jeez, Newkirk," he said, in a low voice.

"I'm sorry, Colonel," said Newkirk. "I don't know what happened. It's all a bit of a blur still."

Hogan did not respond, but stood looking down at the immobile form under the thin blanket. "He could have been killed," he said.

Behind him, still standing in the doorway, Newkirk noticed the solid mass of Sergeant Schultz, the Sergeant of the Guard of Stalag 13. Schultz was visibly distressed; he'd never really got that whole opposite-sides-of-the-war concept.

"He looks very bad," said the sergeant.

"Tell me about it," muttered Newkirk. Hogan didn't say anything.

"Colonel Hogan," Schultz went on, in a low, pleading voice, "it is not our fault. It was saboteurs who blew up the bridge. We are not to blame."

It was obviously the continuation of a discussion that had gone on before their arrival, and Hogan dismissed it impatiently. "Whatever, Schultz."

He had never, within Newkirk's memory, spoken so sharply to Schultz before, and he seemed to regret it almost immediately. "Sorry. Look, just give us a minute, okay?"

"Colonel Hogan," faltered Schultz, "we must go back to the camp very soon. The Kommandant said..."

"I know, Schultz. Just one minute, is all I'm asking. Please."

Schultz backed out of the room, and Hogan leaned over the patient.

"Newkirk," he said, "don't let this beat you. We need you. Come back. Please, just...come back." He took a deep breath. "That's an order, Newkirk."

"I'm doin' me best, sir," said Newkirk, "but I don't seem to know how."

Hogan didn't hear him. Of course he didn't. He lingered for a moment, then sighed, and left. Newkirk remained, hovering uncertainly, looking down at his own inert body, lying on the bed.

_I don't even know how I got out. How the hell am I supposed to get back?_

He knew there had been an explosion; he remembered that much. He had no memory of anything leading up to it, at least, no memory that made any sense. Schultz had mentioned a bridge. Had there been a mission? If so, something had gone wrong. It troubled him that he couldn't remember. No, more than that, it terrified him, because if a bridge was to be blown up, he wouldn't have been there alone. Carter was the demolition man. Carter would have been placing the charges. If they had gone off prematurely - _Where the hell was Carter?_

Up until now, since he first came to awareness and found himself in this state of detachment, he had been tied somehow to the room where his comatose body was lying. Now a kind of panic seized him. He made no conscious effort to move, but found himself moving, driven by the need to find Carter, to know that he was okay.

It was unnerving, the way he was travelling; it was as if he were passing through a series of flickering images, like an old film with a lot of missing frames. It frightened him, and made him feel sick, but he couldn't stop, until he had determined that wherever Carter was, he wasn't in the hospital.

Newkirk was losing track of time, or perhaps time was losing track of him. His frantic round of the hospital left him disoriented, and it seemed that there was an interval of complete blankness before he realised that he was somewhere else, drifting through trees, following the line of a road. It was vaguely familiar, but since he had got so scared about Carter, he was finding it difficult to remember even the simplest things.

Just ahead was a small truck, heading towards...he couldn't quite put a name to it, but he knew the place, he knew it well. He was sure he didn't like it, but he needed to get there.

He was gaining on the truck, by another series of those odd leaps of time. Finally he found himself in the back, behind the driver. Schultz; that was the driver's name. He knew Schultz, and he knew Colonel Hogan, who was sitting next to him. Newkirk's panic abated, and with that his memory cleared. They were going to Stalag 13. Not quite home, but it would do. He had friends there. They would know where Carter was.

The early dusk of winter had descended when the truck pulled in to the compound. Hogan got out, and slammed the door. "Schultz, I don't want to speak to the Kommandant," he said. "Just tell him there's no change."

_The Kommandant knows?_ thought Newkirk. If the Krauts knew about it...

It was strange. There seemed to be no indications about the camp of anything except business as usual. If an operation had come unstuck, to the extent of landing him in hospital, surely there would have been all hell to pay.

The Colonel was striding towards Barracks 2. Newkirk followed him, afraid of losing his grip again if he was left alone. The first person he saw inside was Carter, and the flood of relief almost swept him away. Everything became indistinct; for a moment he thought he was back at the hospital.

_Oh, no, you don't_, he told himself grimly, and fought his way back to the barracks.

"...don't know anything about it." That was Kinch speaking. Newkirk had missed something. He tried to focus.

"They're pretty mad about it, too," Kinch continued. "Hammelburg's full of Gestapo, and there's been a lot of arrests."

"Anyone from the Underground?" asked Hogan.

"That's the weird part, Colonel. It's completely random, it's like they're just picking people up off the street. They don't seem that interested in us, though. When they were questioning us, it was like they already knew we had nothing to do with it."

"Colonel," Carter put in, "if the Underground didn't blow up the bridge, and _we_ didn't blow up the bridge, who did?"

"I don't know, Carter," replied Hogan. "Someone who doesn't have any contact with our organisation, otherwise they'd have known we were planning to hit that bridge. Someone willing to mount an operation in broad daylight, and who isn't concerned about risking the lives of anyone who happens to be around."

"Whoever it was couldn't have known about the work detail," said Kinch.

"They would have known that it's a busy road during the day," Hogan spoke softly, but the anger in his voice was all the more intense for that. "Anyone could have been there. It's not just because it happened to be us. There was a car on the bridge. The driver was killed."

Newkirk's thoughts veered off. The work detail. He remembered that. They were doing road repairs; a pretext to get a look at the bridge in preparation for its destruction. And someone had beaten them to it.

He realised he was losing the thread again, and forced his attention back to the conversation in the barracks. Kinch was speaking again: "...wants out of the infirmary."

"What does the medic say?" asked Hogan.

"Says he should be okay, but don't let him overdo it. He's already notified the Kommandant."

"Fine. Go and bring him back."

Someone was in the infirmary. Newkirk had been so worried about Carter, he hadn't given a thought to anyone else, or even noticed if someone was missing. He tried to follow Kinch, but he seemed to have lost the knack.

_LeBeau_, he thought. _He was standing behind me when...oh, Christ, and I forgot he was there..._


	2. Chapter 2

Apparently LeBeau had been lucky. His left arm was in a sling; it seemed he had escaped with a broken collarbone and cracked ribs. Painful, but not immediately life-threatening.

"That'd be right," said Newkirk. "I got the worst of it. Just my luck." His fright had left him feeling cross.

Still, he was thankful, and he could see that the feeling was shared by everyone. Hogan greeted the Frenchman's arrival with rare warmth, and Carter hurriedly vacated the chair he was sitting on, so that LeBeau could have it.

The flurry of activity prompted by LeBeau's arrival had just abated, and he'd been settled comfortably, close to the stove, when the order came for roll-call.

"No, not you, cockroach," said Schultz, as LeBeau tried to stand. "You are excused roll-call."

That was unusual enough to cause a moment of incredulous silence. Carter was the first to break it: "Can I stay with him?"

"No. Only LeBeau. Kommandant's orders. Everyone else, _raus_."

LeBeau scowled. "Klink is being nice to me. That _really _hurts."

"LeBeau, _please_. The Kommandant is very upset about you and Newkirk."

"Of course he is," Hogan put in curtly. "It's a bad mark on his perfect record. Guys, when Newkirk gets back, remind me to tell him to be more careful next time he's around an explosion."

It was rare for any man to find himself completely alone in the barracks. Once the others had gone, LeBeau allowed himself to relax a little. He couldn't exactly droop; his injuries wouldn't let him. But he leaned his free arm on the table, rested his head on his hand, and closed his eyes.

Newkirk, still hovering, watched with concern. The little Frenchman was clearly in a lot more discomfort than he was prepared to admit to anyone.

"Louis," said Newkirk at last, "I don't think you're well enough to be out of the infirmary."

LeBeau raised his head, and looked around with a little anxious crease forming between his eyebrows. Newkirk felt a chill go down whatever it was that was passing for his spine.

"LeBeau, can you hear me?" he asked.

Apparently LeBeau did hear something. He struggled up from the chair and moved in Newkirk's direction. Newkirk's spirits rose, then plummeted like the Hindenburg, as LeBeau went straight past him, to the bunk that concealed the entrance to the main tunnel under the barracks. He knocked on the upper bunk to raise the lower one and reveal the entrance, and stood leaning against the bunk, peering into the depths.

The rest of the men, released from roll-call, began to return to the barracks. Hogan, seeing LeBeau at the tunnel entrance, went straight over. "Something wrong, LeBeau?"

"_Mon Colonel_," replied LeBeau seriously, still gazing below, "I think we have rats in the tunnel again."

"Oh, charming," muttered Newkirk. "Thank you for the compliment."

They couldn't hear him, nor could they see him. For someone as used to being in the middle of things as Newkirk, it was a new experience to be on the fringe, and he found it disconcerting to be so completely ignored.

The barracks began to settle, with the approach of lights-out.

"Someone'll have to change bunks with LeBeau," said the Colonel. "He can't manage an upper bunk."

"He can have mine," offered Carter. "I'll take Newkirk's."

Newkirk turned on him. "Oh, you will, will you, Andrew?"

Carter blushed, just as if he had heard. But Hogan and LeBeau were both looking at him with varying degrees of astonishment, so that might account for it.

"I just thought, maybe it would be better if someone was close in case LeBeau needs anything in the night." he added, embarrassed. "And...and it was awful quiet up there last night." He hesitated, then went on, in a low voice, "I guess it just feels like he wouldn't be so far away, if I slept in his bunk."

Hogan had to smile, for the first time that day. "Okay, Carter. If it makes you feel better."

The subdued bedtime bustle caused a few problems for Newkirk. He may not have had any corporeal form, but he had a definite sense of his own location. Unfortunately nobody else shared it, and it was a very disturbing sensation when someone walked straight through him. He ducked back - at least, it felt like ducking; it was probably more of a gliding motion - to avoid Olsen, only to find himself being stepped on by Baker, and he retreated further, to the relative safety of his own upper bunk.

Of course, when Carter landed practically on top of him, he got out so fast that he went straight through the wall, into the open air.

And just to make the evening perfect, when he tried to get back into the barracks, the wall wouldn't let him in. He couldn't even see inside; the window shutters were all closed.

_Well, this is bloody marvellous_, he thought irritably.

He didn't seem affected by the cold, which was one consolation. But hanging about in the compound all night wasn't his idea of entertainment. He drifted across to the Kommandantur, but the walls of that building were just as unyielding as those of the barracks, so he proceeded on to Klink's private quarters, and found an open window. It was almost an invitation. It wasn't often that he got a chance to prowl around the Kommandant's rooms with no fear of detection.

_If I can learn how to __do this a bit better, it could come in quite handy - if only I can get anyone to hear me - Blimey, I didn't know old Klink plucked his eyebrows..._

It wasn't a spectacle he wanted to witness. He backed out of the window again, and lingered uncertainly. The lights in all the barracks were out, and the camp was quiet, save for an occasional exchange between the guards.

Someone came around from behind Barracks 5, moving slowly and uncertainly. Someone unusually short; LeBeau? No, LeBeau was in Barracks 2 with a broken collarbone. And whoever it was did not seem to be trying to avoid detection, walking straight across the compound in full view of the guards. Yet the guards took no notice.

Newkirk suddenly felt very cold indeed.

The woman was not young; he felt rather than saw it, for her features were indistinct in the darkness. She was walking uncertainly, turning her head from side to side as if looking for something. Instinctively, Newkirk moved forward to intercept her, and she stopped, but her eyes looked straight past him. A worried, tired, middle-aged woman, unexceptional, except that he could see right through her.

For a moment, he couldn't think what to say. Finally the words came: "Can I help you, love?"

"I need to get home." A voice like water running over ice. She continued to stare at the distance for a moment, then seemed to become aware of him.

"You can see me," she remarked.

"Fair do's. You can see me. Nobody else has a clue I'm here."

She continued to look at him, with a vaguely disapproving expression. An ordinary _Hausfrau_; the kind of woman one might see in any town, going about her daily life. She had a square, matronly look about her. Very upright, very neat, just a little bit snooty; the sort who, back home, wouldn't let her daughter go out with him.

"I don't believe we've been introduced," she said at last.

Newkirk felt a surge of impatience. "Well, under the circumstances, that's no surprise, is it? Guess we'll have to skip the formalities. I'm Peter. Peter Newkirk."

She thought about it, and conceded the point. "My name is Berg." She began to move again, and he followed her. As they passed the kennels, one of the dogs gave an agitated whine, then all of them began to bark, loudly and frantically. The woman stopped, and stared at them in bewilderment, then at the guards who came running at the sound.

"What is this place?" she asked.

He saw no reason not to answer. "Stalag 13. Prisoner of war camp, near Hammelburg."

"Why am I here?"

"There you got me, missus," said Newkirk.

She looked confused; started to speak, but seemed to lose the words. Finally she said, "I have relations in Hammelburg." It seemed inconsequential.

"So where are you trying to get to, then?"

She shook her head impatiently. "Home. Neustadt."

Not very informative. There were a lot of places in Germany called Neustadt. He was about to ask for more information when something changed. Her expression changed to one of sheer terror, and she put one hand forward, either reaching out, or trying to ward something off. Before Newkirk could react, she vanished.

He stared around the compound; at the silent dark buildings, the watchtower and spotlight, the guards still searching round the kennels, and finally at the dogs, who were still yelping intermittently at nothing at all.

_Oh, blimey,_he thought,_ and I thought I didn't believe in ghosts..._


	3. Chapter 3

Colonel Hogan came into the radio room in the tunnel, where Kinch was monitoring the radio. "Any word from the Underground?" he asked.

"Not yet, Colonel."

Hogan folded his arms, leaning back against one of the support timbers. "When they get in touch, set up a meeting for tomorrow night." Seeing the doubtful look on Kinch's face, he added, "I know it's risky, but if there's a freelance saboteur running loose it puts our whole operation at risk. We need to exchange any information we have, and it's too difficult if it has to be coded, so we need to talk face to face."

Kinch nodded, reluctantly, "Okay. Where do you want to meet? And who's going?"

"I guess it has to be me and Carter. Make it the Hofbrau, around twenty-three hundred hours." Hogan turned to leave. "Oh, by the way," he said, "any sign of those rats LeBeau thought he heard?"

"Nothing, Colonel. But I've put out some traps." Kinch spoke grimly. As he spent more time down here than anyone else, he bore the brunt of the regular incursions by vermin into the tunnels. The last rat infestation, which had been severe, had left him with a complete horror of them, surprising given his level-headedness in the face of everything else this war could throw at him. He had even got leery of Carter's pet mouse.

Hogan gave a non-committal grunt. "He might have imagined it. He's still a little shaky. But if you see any - or hear them - let me know."

"Don't worry about that," said Kinch under his breath. "You'll hear the screams."

Hogan went back up into the barracks. It was after lights-out, but he knew the layout well enough to find his way in the dark. He paused by Carter's bunk, to check on LeBeau; a faint peripheral beam from a small flashlight was enough to show that he appeared to be sleeping. But as he moved away, Carter moved restlessly in the bunk above. "Colonel...?"

"What is it, Carter," said Hogan in a low voice.

"He will be okay, won't he? Newkirk, I mean. He's gonna make it, right?"

Hogan thought carefully before he answered. He didn't want to crush Carter's hopes, but they all had to be prepared. It was a question of how to put it, though. Sometimes it was hard to know exactly how naive Carter was. He knew the risks they ran every day of their lives, but knowing and believing were two different things.

"Carter," said Hogan, "he's in a bad way, and it's not looking good right now. But he's strong, and he's as stubborn as they come, so if anyone could have a chance, Newkirk has." He patted Carter's shoulder, as if he were a child needing reassurance. "Try to get some sleep."

He went into his own quarters and sat down, too tired himself for sleep. From outside, he could hear one of the dogs in the kennels whining unhappily. The next moment, a volley of furious barking broke out.

"What the hell...?" muttered Hogan, striding to the door and yanking it open. All around the barracks rose the exclamations and protests from men unceremoniously roused from their first sleep.

"Quiet down!" ordered Hogan. He went to the window nearest to the kennels, and pushed the shutter open an inch or so. The spotlight had been turned in that direction, and Hogan could see the guards racing over there, while the dogs were tearing back and forth along the enclosure fence.

Carter came to look over his shoulder. "What's the matter with them?" he asked.

"They are scared," said LeBeau, propping himself up. He knew the dogs better than anyone.

Hogan nodded, frowning. "I wonder what spooked them."

"_Sais pas_," replied LeBeau. But he sounded upset.

The guards were searching the area around the kennels, apparently with no result. Hogan closed the shutter. "Everyone back to bed," he said. "If they don't find whatever set the dogs off, the next thing will be a bed check."

He opened the tunnel entrance and swung himself down the ladder.

Kinch looked up as Hogan entered the radio room. "Still nothing," he began, but Hogan cut him short.

"Get up to the barracks. There's something going on outside, and the dogs have gone crazy."

"Bed check?" said Kinch, quick off the mark as usual.

"Any second, I'd say."

They rushed up the ladder, but Kinch had not made it into his bunk when the door opened, and Schultz barrelled in, switching on the lights.

"Nobody move," he ordered. "Bed check. Kommandant's orders."

It took no effort to slip into the task of baffling the sergeant; it was even a relief to follow routine.

"Evening, Schultz," said Hogan genially. "We were just about to have choir rehearsal. Would you like to join in?"

"No, thank you, Colonel Hogan, I am...Colonel Hogan, why are you not in your quarters? And why is Kinchloe not in bed?"

"Kinch is conducting," replied Hogan, "and I'm singing the descant. It's easier to reach the high notes if you stand up, you know."

"Colonel Hogan, the Kommandant is very angry about the dogs. Please, just let me do my job, and then maybe we can all get some sleep."

Hogan raised his hands. "Okay, Schultz. But you'd have loved our Gilbert and Sullivan medley."

Schultz muttered under his breath, and began the round of the barracks. "Where is LeBeau?" he asked suddenly.

"Over here, Schultz," said LeBeau. Schultz spun round, and trundled across the barracks.

"Why are you in Carter's bed?" he asked.

"I needed a holiday," replied LeBeau.

"And where is Carter?" demanded Schultz; then flinched, as he felt a light tap on his shoulder. He looked up; Carter waved at him from the upper bunk.

Schultz moaned. "LeBeau is in Carter's bunk. Carter is in Newkirk's bunk. So now, tell me. Where is Newkirk?"

Then, as he realised what he'd just said, his face fell with dismay. "Colonel Hogan," he faltered. "I am sorry. For a moment I forgot."

"Yeah, Schultz," said Hogan. "I wish we could."

Schultz finished his round amid a silence that was colder than the air outside, and got himself out of the barracks.

"Don't be too hard on 'im, fellers. He didn't mean it," observed Newkirk. He had taken advantage of the bed check to follow Schultz into the barracks, since he apparently couldn't yet pass through walls at will. He was getting used to being invisible, so it didn't surprise him to be ignored. It just annoyed him. A lot.

LeBeau had dropped back onto the mattress, and put his hand over his eyes. Hogan drew a deep breath, and drummed his fist against the frame of the tunnel bunk. "Okay," he said at last. "Lights are going out. Get some sleep."

"I guess I better get back on the radio," murmured Kinch, but he made no attempt to move. Carter had tumbled out of the upper bunk, and was sitting beside LeBeau, his face drawn with anxiety.

Hogan turned out the lights and put his flashlight on. He crouched beside LeBeau, while Newkirk stationed himself at the end of the bunk.

"LeBeau, you don't look so good," said Hogan quietly. "Do you want me to send for the medic?" LeBeau shook his head, pressing his lips together.

"Can we get you anything?" asked Carter.

"No," LeBeau said forcefully. "I'm fine. Go back to bed, Carter."

Hogan sighed. "LeBeau, whatever it is, spit it out."

LeBeau looked at him, to see if he meant it; decided that he did. "Colonel, it's probably nothing. But there is a superstition about barking dogs." He swallowed, and looked at Carter apologetically. "They bark when they sense someone has died."


	4. Chapter 4

"No," said Newkirk. "I'm not dead. I'd know if I was dead."

"He's not dead," said Carter vehemently, at the same instant.

Hogan gestured for silence. "Steady, Carter. LeBeau..." He bit back his own protest at sight of the distress on LeBeau's face.

"I've heard that one, too," said Kinch, in a low angry voice, "but I don't buy it."

"He isn't dead," insisted Carter. "He can't be. I know he isn't."

"Yeah, you tell 'em, Andrew," said Newkirk.

"Quiet," Hogan ordered. "Kinch, is that outside line still working? Then get on the phone to the hospital, and ask for an update on Newkirk's condition. Tell 'em you're Klink - no, make it Gruber, the adjutant."

"It's nearly eleven at night," Kinch pointed out. "What if they won't tell me anything?"

"Then you ring 'em back, and say you're General Burkhalter. And if that doesn't work, try Goering. Whatever it takes."

Kinch shook his head, and went into the tunnel. There was a moment of tense silence, then Carter, with an inarticulate exclamation, ran after him.

LeBeau had covered his eyes again. Hogan got up, and began pacing in the dark. "I don't believe it, either," he muttered.

Newkirk stayed where he was. He was starting to feel lost again. The darkness in the barracks surrounded him; all he could hear was Hogan's footsteps, back and forth, back and forth, fading into distance.

Silence. No sound at all. He gave himself a mental shake, and looked around.

He was back in the hospital room, looking at that motionless body on the bed.

For a second, he couldn't tell if there was any life there at all; then he became aware of the slow rise and fall of the chest. The relief sent him dizzy again, and everything went out of focus. When his vision cleared, there were people in the room. A doctor, he thought, and a nurse, checking the patient. Behind them, in the doorway, he could see someone else.

He knew that black-uniformed man. His name was Hochstetter, and he was a major in the Gestapo.

Newkirk felt sick. _What's he want with me? _he thought.

The doctor turned and addressed the Gestapo officer. Newkirk couldn't hear what he was saying, but it didn't look friendly. Hochstetter pointed at the bed, asking a question. The doctor shook his head, and Hochstetter frowned. He regarded the patient with a meditative expression, then turned back to the doctor and issued some kind of command.

_Maybe I should learn __lip-reading,_ thought Newkirk. _In German. _

Hochstetter turned on his heel and left. Newkirk did his best to follow. It was hard to keep up, but he managed to keep the major in sight until Hochstetter abruptly turned off into a room further down the corridor.

Newkirk made one effort to go after him, but came up against a barrier that sent him reeling. The hospital corridor seemed to expand and fragment into nothingness, and he found himself in darkness, listening to footsteps, going back and forth...

"No change, Colonel. He's stable but still unconscious."

Kinch's voice. The voice of reason.

There was a stifled gasp from LeBeau. Hogan, just visible in outline in the darkness, could be seen to relax.

"Thanks, Kinch," he said softly.

Newkirk remained very still, as the tension ebbed away. Apparently it wasn't death the dogs had sensed - unless it was the woman who had died. Maybe they'd just been frightened by the presence of something they couldn't quite understand.

Carter came back up the ladder, shivering and sniffling. He had gone into the tunnel without getting dressed, and in bare feet. Hogan swore. "Carter, you'll catch your death."

"I'm okay, Colonel," said Carter. His voice was shaking. He climbed up onto the top bunk, and wrapped himself in the scant bedclothes. Hogan went into his quarters, and came back with an extra blanket from his own bunk.

"Don't you ever do something stupid like that again," he said, as he spread it over Carter. "Damn it, Carter. We can't afford another man sick." The words were sharp, but he sounded more worried than angry.

Kinch had already gone back below. Hogan made sure LeBeau was comfortable, then returned to his quarters, and closed the door.

"I should tell the governor about Hochstetter," said Newkirk. Then, as nobody replied, he answered himself. "Oh, and how are you plannin' to do that, Peter? Send 'im a bleedin' telegram?"

LeBeau, almost asleep, gave an ill-tempered mumble. Newkirk tensed.

"LeBeau?" No response. Newkirk moved closer. "Come on, LeBeau, you almost heard me before. Please, Louis, I need to tell you something."

LeBeau shivered, but showed no other reaction.

_Fine. __LeBeau's no good. I'll give Carter a try._

Carter, almost completely cocooned in the coarse blankets, was still sniffling. "You did take a chill after all," said Newkirk. "Here - you ain't crying, are you?"

He wasn't; but he didn't seem far off it, either. Newkirk settled on the edge of the bunk; he was pretty sure by now that he could have floated in mid-air, but somehow he didn't like that idea.

"Andrew," he said seriously, "you don't want to be getting upset about me. I'm doing fine. You heard Kinch, and you know he wouldn't lie to you. And even if you don't believe him, you can take it from me. I'll be back before you know it."

He couldn't be sure that he was getting through, but Carter seemed a little calmer, which had to be a good sign. Newkirk leaned forward, close to Carter's ear. "Andrew, this is really important. Hochstetter's been at the hospital. I don't know what he's up to, but it can't be anything good. You have to tell the Colonel."

There was no reaction. Carter appeared to be drifting off to sleep. This wasn't working. Newkirk gathered all his energy for another effort.

"Carter!" he bawled, as loudly as he could.

Carter sat straight up, with a yell of alarm, and sent Newkirk flying. For the second time that night, the entire barracks was roused from sleep, and a chorus of recriminations broke out.

"Alright, cut it out!" Hogan came out of his quarters, and put the lights on. "What the hell is wrong with you guys?"

Olsen replied. "Sorry, Colonel. Carter woke us up."

Carter was still sitting up, wide-eyed and panting. He looked around, with a kind of desperate anxiety. "I thought..." He caught his breath, and became aware that he was the centre of attention. "Colonel, I'm sorry," he stammered. "I thought..."

"Easy, Carter," said Hogan quickly. "You've been dreaming."

"No, he wasn't, Colonel," Newkirk protested. "Carter, tell him."

But the moment had passed. Carter, embarrassed by the uproar he'd caused, was persuaded to lie down again; the lights went off, and for the third time that night, the men tried to go to sleep.

Newkirk had ended up on top of the tunnel bunk. "Well, that went well," he announced to the room in general.

There had to be a way to get through to them. LeBeau seemed to be a washout; he didn't dare try Carter again, and somehow he didn't feel at all confident of any luck with either Kinch or the colonel.

_What I want is someone not too rational_, he decided. _Someone just a bit gullible. Someone easily convinced... _

The ideal candidate came to mind. "Oh, no," he said aloud. "Not him."


	5. Chapter 5

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Colonel Hogan, in spite of two nights with hardly any sleep, entered the Kommandant's office with his customary breeziness. He'd been doing this so long now, it was almost second nature; and in any case, even when he didn't need to, it was good business practice to keep the Kommandant in a more or less permanent state of befuddlement.

Klink did not look pleased, but Newkirk greeted Hogan's arrival with relief. He had been following the Kommandant around all morning, trying to get his attention, and he'd just about had enough of it. He still hadn't worked out what he would say if he succeeded; there were so many things Klink wasn't supposed to hear about.

_I should have tried Schultz_, he told himself. _No, hang about, that wouldn't work. Schultz hears nothing. Nothing._

"Colonel Hogan, there was a disturbance last night," said Klink.

"I know, sir. Some of the men asked me to speak to you about it. They're very upset about losing their sleep. You know, you really should try to keep the dogs quiet at night."

The Kommandant gave him a withering look, to no effect whatsoever. "Our guard dogs are always quiet at night, unless something - or _someone_ - disturbs them."

Hogan pondered. "Maybe there was a cat," he suggested.

"There are no cats," Klink growled. "Cats are not allowed in this prison camp."

"I know, sir," said Hogan confidentially, " and between you and me, I think that's a mistake. If the dogs were used to having cats around, they wouldn't be so scared of them."

Klink gave a thoughtful nod. "That's true. Perhaps if we...Hogan, the dogs are not afraid of cats." He thumped the desk, and glowered, which made a change from glaring but was no more effective. "I don't know what your men were up to last night, Hogan. But I will find out."

"When you do, sir, will you let me know?" said Hogan. "They never tell me anything."

"I will let you know this, Hogan. Any man found outside the barracks after lights out will go into solitary confinement. And just as a little advance punishment, the recreation hall will be closed for two weeks from today."

Hogan shook his head despondently. "Well, sir, if you feel it's necessary, I'll try and explain it to the men. But I can't be held responsible for what happens when they start getting bored. They will get to thinking, and then they start having ideas..."

"Ideas? What ideas?" Klink's self-satisfaction had evaporated so quickly one could almost see steam rising from the top of his head.

"Oh, you know, sir. They start thinking about camp security, and then they start thinking about the ways in which it could be...well, better. The next thing you know, the escape committee's snowed under with suggestions. And they're overworked as it is."

Newkirk sniggered. The Kommandant's head twitched in his direction, and a momentary flicker of anxiety appeared. _Ruddy hell - I think he heard that._

"Very droll, Hogan," said Klink. "Two weeks. And I expect you to see that it doesn't happen again. Dismissed."

"You're a hard man, Kommandant," said Hogan.

_Last chance,_ thought Newkirk. "What about Hochstetter, anyway?" he said loudly, just as Hogan opened the door.

"Hochstetter?" Klink bounced up from his chair. "What about Major Hochstetter? Hogan, have you heard anything?"

"I'm sorry, Kommandant?" Hogan turned back, confused. "No, I haven't heard anything. Why, have you?" His voice had sharpened.

Klink sank back slowly. "I haven't heard anything. Not one word."

There was a moment of mutually puzzled silence, as each of them wondered how the Gestapo officer's name had suddenly entered the conversation. Hogan was the first to break it. "Well, if I do hear anything, sir, I'll be sure and tell you. I know how you like to keep up with the latest Gestapo gossip."

Newkirk had slipped past the colonel, through the open door into the outer office. He wasn't completely satisfied with the results of the interview, but at least he'd got Hochstetter's name mentioned, and that was a start. He waited patiently, while Hogan took his leave of the secretary, Fräulein Helga; it was a little awkward, but he was stuck, until the colonel got round to opening the door.

_I really must get that going-through-walls business sorted, some time_, he thought. _I did it once. How hard can it be?_

He loitered at the window, thinking over how things appeared to work for him in this state. Getting someone's attention seemed to require their thoughts to be somehow disconnected from reality. Carter and LeBeau had been aware of him, though only vaguely, when in the borderland between waking and sleeping; Klink, when his train of thought had just been derailed. And the window of opportunity stayed open only briefly, so picking the right moment was essential. It wasn't going to be easy.

Across the compound, some of the prisoners were taking advantage of the winter sunshine; Carter was doing laundry, while Kinch repaired the gutter above the barracks door. Two of the guards went past on patrol. A couple of the guys from Barracks 3 went past with a wheelbarrow; possibly on ground maintenance duty, but probably moving the excess earth from the new tunnel extension. Normal day-to-day stuff. And in the middle of the compound, unseen by anyone else, the woman he'd encountered the night before stood gazing around with slightly indignant bewilderment.

"Colonel, if it's all the same to you, I think I'm needed outside," said Newkirk urgently.

He couldn't say for sure if he'd got through to Hogan; the colonel had things on his mind just at that point. But he did finish up; giving Helga a final _next-time-darling_ look, he opened the door. Newkirk almost flew past him.

The lady glared at him. "It's you again," she said.

"Well, you turn up here, that's where you'll find me," replied Newkirk. _What did she say her name was? Berg, that was it..._

"I know who you are," Frau Berg went on. She was looking at him with deep hostility. "I know what you want from me. It won't work."

"Hang on," said Newkirk. "You're barkin' up the wrong tree, love. I don't know who you think I am, but..."

"You're working for that man. All this is a trick. It won't work," she said again. "I can't give him what he wants. I don't know anything."

"Okay, just back up a minute, missus. What man?"

"That man. The Gestapo." She spat the word out as if it were bitter poison.

"You don't mean Hochstetter?"

"I don't know his name." She gave him a haunted, despairing look. "I need to go home. Please..."

This was getting confusing. Newkirk tried again. "Look, I want to help you, but you've got to help me. What is it Hochstetter wants you to tell 'im? And where's he got you?"

Even as he spoke, he realised where she was, remembering how he'd followed Hochstetter after the major's visit to his bedside. "You're in the hospital, aren't you? In that other room, just down the corridor from me."

Too late. She was gone again, and Newkirk felt himself being pulled away as well. He looked around desperately, trying to find an anchor point, something to hang on to. Carter was there, but Carter was too far away.

Newkirk felt as if some heavy mass had fallen on him. His surroundings seemed to turn brittle, like an unquiet dream at the moment of waking. His eyelids weighed down with irresistible pressure, and for the first time in two days, he was aware of the weight of each part of his body, right down to his fingertips. It took a moment to grasp what had happened.

_I'm back_, he thought. _I've made it. All I have to do is open my eyes, and all this is over._ But the effort required seemed too great. He knew he was on the very edge of consciousness, but he couldn't get past that last fragile barrier.

_Do I really want to wake u__p and find myself looking at Hochstetter?_

Now there was a nasty thought. Another, even more troubling, followed. _How am I supposed to let the colonel know what I've found out, if I'm stuck in the hospital? Klink's never going to let him visit again, and with the Gestapo hanging round, it's safer if he doesn't._

He had no choice. He had to get back to Stalag 13, and once he was there, he had to find a way to speak to Colonel Hogan.

After that, he could worry about waking up.


	6. Chapter 6

"Where does Hochstetter fit into this?"

"I don't know, Colonel" replied Kinch. "But whatever he's up to, I'm sure we're not gonna like it."

Hogan nodded in agreement. "What was the name of that captain who was here yesterday?" he asked.

"Lindemann. Do you think Hochstetter's working with him?"

"It's possible. Or maybe Hochstetter's got something doing off his own bat." Hogan considered the possibilities, then added, "Or, Klink is paranoid, and sees Gestapo where no Gestapo exists."

"Or Hochstetter's hangin' round the hospital," added Newkirk, "in between terrorizing little old ladies. Yeah, I know, you can't hear me. Dunno why I bother."

Newkirk was fed up. He wasn't sure he hadn't blown his only chance of recovery, and for all the good he was doing, he might as well have saved himself the trouble. He had been back at camp for several hours, and hadn't managed to get through to anyone at all.

Getting back from the hospital had been no stroll in the park, either. He had thought that he would just pop back instantly, the same as he had the night before. It hadn't happened like that. He wasn't quite sure how he had made the journey, but he did know he hadn't liked it; he had a vague memory of feeling completely lost, and completely disembodied, and of being aware of things he couldn't quite identify, just at the edge of his field of vision. It was deeply unsettling, and he hoped he wouldn't have to do it again.

On top of everything else, this conference in Hogan's office was uncomfortable; the enclosed space gave him a feeling of being trapped, and the colonel's habit of pacing when deep in thought made it difficult to keep out of his way.

"Lindemann didn't seem very interested," Kinch remarked. "Is it possible that Hochstetter's taken over?"

"Anything is possible at the moment," said Hogan. "Klink's no help. He doesn't have a clue."

"Nothing new there," muttered LeBeau.

Hogan ignored him. "Did Lindemann give any hints that he'd be coming back?"

"He's Gestapo," said Kinch dryly. "They don't usually make appointments. But he should be back. He hasn't spoken to LeBeau yet."

"Or Newkirk," added Carter. Three pairs of eyes fixed on him, and he blinked. "Well, he hasn't."

"Let's assume the worst for now," Hogan said. "We work on the basis that Hochstetter is now in charge. That means if he can find any way to nail us for that bridge, he will."

"So, in other words, business as usual," Kinch concluded.

"Right. In the meantime, we make contact with the underground at the Hofbrau tonight as planned. And Kinch - keep checking with the hospital." Hogan checked his watch. "Okay, that's all for now. Mess call in fifteen minutes."

Carter and Kinch looked at each other unhappily.

"I don't think I'm hungry," said Carter.

"Me neither. Not after what they gave us for lunch," added Kinch. "Say, Colonel, I couldn't come with you tonight, could I?"

"Sorry, Kinch." replied Hogan, "it's just me and Carter." Carter brightened visibly.

"Louis, you better get well soon," said Kinch. "I don't know how much more I can take."

As the meeting broke up, Carter wandered out into the main barracks and sat on his bunk. He was looking worried; once or twice he glanced at Hogan, and almost started to speak, but then thought better of it.

"Carter," said Hogan at last, "you got something on your mind?"

"No, sir. At least...no, sir."

Hogan pulled up a chair and sat down. He looked at Carter without speaking for almost a minute. Carter fidgeted, pulling at a loose thread hanging from one of his gloves; looked up and caught Hogan's eye, went scarlet and looked down again. LeBeau and Kinch took up positions on the other side of the table, gazing at him as well.

"You'll think it's really stupid," said Carter finally.

"Carter, in this camp, I'm the only judge of what's stupid and what isn't," said Hogan, "and I can't make that call till I know what's bugging you." As Carter still hesitated, the colonel went on. "Let's say it's hypothetical."

"Okay," murmured Carter doubtfully. He cleared his throat, clasped his hands together as if about to recite a poem, and began. "Say a hypothetical Gestapo officer's name came up in conversation, and some guy - some _hypothetical_ guy - thought he'd heard the same Gestapo officer's name mentioned the night before, while he was hypothetically asleep - well, Colonel, would you think, hypothetically speaking, the guy might be going crazy?"

"Oh, so you _did_ hear me, Carter," said Newkirk. "About time you got round to mentioning it." Kinch rolled his eyes, while LeBeau just stared.

"Well, Carter," Hogan said after a moment, "I would think that maybe Klink isn't the only one round here who's getting paranoid."

"That's what I thought," sighed Carter. "Good thing it's only hypothetical, right?"

"Yeah, right. But still...if that guy happens to hear anything else in the night, tell him to let me know, okay?" Hogan glanced at LeBeau, who was looking troubled, as if trying to recall something that wouldn't come to mind. "Well, LeBeau? You got anything to say?"

LeBeau shook his head, slowly. "I'm not sure, _mon Colonel_."

"Not you, too?"

LeBeau answered with a grimace, and an attempt at a shrug. Hogan decided to let it go for now. He looked at his watch again. "Salmonella time. Let's go. You coming, LeBeau?"

"There are many things a Frenchman will do for his country, and for the war effort," replied LeBeau bitterly. "That is not one of them. I would sooner starve."

Kinch let Carter get a bit ahead as they walked over to the mess hall. "Colonel," he said quietly, "you don't buy that, do you?"

"No. What's most likely is that either having the Gestapo here yesterday put the idea of Hochstetter in Carter's mind, or that someone around the camp mentioned Hochstetter and Carter overheard them without realising it."

"But...?"

"But right now, I'm not discounting anything."

"Colonel, you don't seriously think Carter's psychic or something like that?"

Hogan gave him a skeptical grin. "Come off it, Kinch. No way is Carter psychic. LeBeau, I might go along with it. But not Carter."

"He seems a little out of it," Kinch went on dubiously. "Are you sure he's okay for tonight?"

Hogan held up his hands in mild frustration. "I'm pretty sure he's not, but what choice do we have?" He took a deep breath, let it go. "If you knew how much I wish Newkirk was here right now..."

"I think we'd all be happier if Newkirk was going with you," said Kinch.

"Oh, I'll be going with them, Kinch," Newkirk muttered, following them. "Don't you worry about that."


	7. Chapter 7

Hogan came out of his quarters, buttoning his coat. "Any sign of Schnitzer yet?"

"Not yet, Colonel," replied Kinch, who was surveying the compound through the sink periscope.

"He should be here any minute. Carter, go and wait in the tunnel."

Both Hogan and Carter were dressed for their evening excursion. It was amazing how inconspicuous the colonel could make himself; he could blend in anywhere, when he chose to. Carter specialized in a sort of eccentric, but harmless look.

"I'm still not happy about him, Colonel," said Kinch quietly.

"I know. We'll be careful. Don't wait up."

Hogan followed Carter down below, while Newkirk hesitated at the top of the tunnel entrance. So far, he had avoided the tunnels, out of a vague fear of being trapped under the earth. But he was absolutely certain he should go to the meeting with Hogan, and he was just steeling himself for the descent, when he realised that it wouldn't work. They were going into town with Schnitzer, the dog handler. That meant going out of the tunnel exit in the kennels, and only last night, the dogs had gone berserk when Newkirk went near them. He hovered uncertainly.

"This is just bloody ridiculous," he said. "Come on, Peter, concentrate. How did you get out of the barracks that first time?"

He hadn't thought about it; he'd just done it, instinctively. That was how.

He went to the door, and looked at it assessingly. It was neither solid nor well-made; gaps between the boards let cold air in and slightly warmer air out, so a disembodied spirit shouldn't have much trouble with it. Maybe it was just a matter of how he approached it.

_Don't look at it. __That's probably the trouble. You look at it, you know it's solid, you think you can't get through, so you can't. Think about something else, that might help._

He turned towards LeBeau, who was tucked up in Carter's bunk.

"Louis," he said aloud, "did I ever tell you the one about the actress and the undertaker's mate?" And he edged a little close to the door.

LeBeau, again on the edge of sleep, gave a confused little murmur, and raised his head. Newkirk moved a bit further.

"See, there was this actress, and she went to a funeral, and the undertaker..."

...and he was through. If he'd known it was that easy...

He wasn't finished yet, though. Unless he was prepared to make his own way to the Hofbrau - which, after his last solo excursion, he wasn't - he still had to get into Schnitzer's van with the others, without going close enough to agitate the dogs.

The dog handler had arrived, and was talking to Schultz, keeping him occupied while Hogan and Carter sneaked into the van. An idea came to Newkirk; he didn't like it one bit, but it was the best he could come up with in a hurry. He waited till Schnitzer got back into his van, and started towards the gate. Then he placed himself directly in the vehicle's path.

A few seconds of bright light, and a moment of sheer terror; then a sudden impact, sensed rather than felt. For a moment he was afraid the van would go straight on past, leaving him behind; but it didn't.

"What was that?" said Carter nervously.

Hogan gave him a puzzled look. "What was what?"

"I thought we hit something."

The colonel shook his head. "I didn't hear anything." Newkirk could just make out Hogan's features in the dim light; there was a doubtful look on his face. "Carter, maybe you should wait outside when we get there. You seem a little edgy."

"I'm fine, Colonel. Honest," replied Carter.

Schnitzer dropped them off a little out of town; close enough to walk to the tavern, but isolated enough not to be seen by anyone. "Stay close, Carter," said Hogan, "and keep quiet. I'll do the talking."

The Hofbrau was unusually quiet this evening. In the far corner, by one of the windows, an elderly man was reading a newspaper. Hogan walked over to him.

"Pardon me, but are these seats taken?"

The man gave a polite smile. "No, _mein Herr._ Please, you are welcome to join me."

Hogan nodded thanks, and sat on one side, gesturing Carter to the other. Newkirk got himself onto the window ledge, just behind Carter, and listened.

"It's been an unusually severe winter," the colonel remarked.

The expected reply was given: "My sister's chilblains are very bad."

"She should try rubbing turnip juice on them," said Carter. "That clears them up in no time." He received a quelling look from Hogan, and a slap on the back of the head, which he didn't feel, from Newkirk.

"Papa Bear?" said the old man quietly.

"Yes. And you're Copernicus, right?" Hogan went straight to the point. "What can you tell us about the bridge bombing two days ago?"

"It's a complete mystery to us," replied Copernicus. "You do not suspect any of our people?"

"No, you'd never have put my men at risk like that, let alone chance it in broad daylight."

"There is something strange about it," said Copernicus. "Our contacts inside the police and at Gestapo headquarters have been trying to find out what kind of explosives were used, and the detonation method. The Gestapo captain - Lindemann - is playing it very close, but we have learned one thing. They did not use a timer. The charge was detonated manually, from the slope above the bridge on the other side of the river from where your men were working."

Hogan frowned. "Would they have been able to see the bridge?"

"We can't be certain of the exact position, but the whole area overlooks the bridge. They must have known there were people in the area, and seen the car crossing the bridge."

"What do we know about the driver who was killed?"

"Not much. He was not local. His name was Berg - Josef Berg, a businessman from Hagendorf."

Newkirk went cold. Berg was the name of the woman he had seen twice wandering lost at Stalag 13. And there was a Neustadt very close to Hagendorf.

The discussion had moved on. "There's another Gestapo officer, Major Hochstetter," said Hogan. "Do you know if he's involved in the investigation?"

"Oh, we know _him_," replied Copernicus. It was clear from his tone that they knew no good of the man. "As far as we know, he has no part in it. Lindemann is in charge."

"Never mind that," Newkirk put in urgently. "Hochstetter's involved, all right, but get back to Berg. He's got something to do with it. Colonel, please, ask him about Berg." But he knew Hogan couldn't hear him.

He turned to look at Carter, who was leaning on the table, looking at the checked tablecloth with a rather distant expression. "Andrew, _you_ tell him. Ask about Berg." Carter gave a little start, and looked around. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Carter, just ask him." But Carter, though apparently vaguely aware of his presence, didn't seem to grasp what was wanted of him.

Hogan was still speaking: "Anything else you can tell us?"

"Not at the moment. But we will be in touch."

_And a __whole lot of good that did_, thought Newkirk in disgust. _If Carter would learn to pay attention for once..._

Copernicus returned to his newspaper, while the two Americans and their disgruntled, invisible companion headed for the door. Just before they got there, it opened to admit two men in black.

Hogan, with a quick instinctive movement, lifted his hat, shielding his face with his arm. "_Guten Abend_," he murmured, brushing past the shorter Gestapo officer. Major Hochstetter barely glanced at him. Carter, keeping his head down, gave him a brief nod as he followed the colonel.

"Wait," said Hochstetter, and Carter, still in the doorway, froze.

Hochstetter had turned, and was looking at him.

"Have we met before?" he asked.


	8. Chapter 8

"I don't think so," said Carter, speaking in a higher register than normal, and enunciating his syllables very precisely. "Let me think...have you ever been to Wuppertal?"

Hogan was waiting just outside the door. He had a gun, but using it was a last resort, if Carter couldn't manage to extract himself safely.

"I lived in Wuppertal for six years," Hochstetter replied.

Carter nodded with a satisfied air. "Ah, of course. I remember now. I've never been there."

Before Hochstetter could sort that one out, he gave a quick salute, and left.

Newkirk lingered, uncertain of what to do. His instinct was to stick with Hogan; he wasn't easily frightened, but the thought of another lone journey terrified him. Besides, he preferred to keep as far from Hochstetter as he could. Even if he stayed behind, and managed to learn anything new, so far he was not having much success in passing on information.

Behind him, he heard Hochstetter's voice. "Please sit down, Captain Lindemann. I'm so glad you could join me."

_Oh, blimey__, I'd better stay for this._

Lindemann was taller than Hochstetter, which wasn't saying much; a thin, underfed-looking type, probably older than he appeared. He seemed ill-at-ease in the major's company. Apparently the major even had other Gestapo spooked.

Hochstetter waited until their _Schnapps_ had arrived before speaking. "Lindemann, your investigation seems to have expanded very quickly."

"Early days, _Herr Major_," murmured Lindemann.

"They are not at all happy with you in Berlin, Lindemann," Hochstetter added. "I am not happy, either. Every person I need to speak to for my own current inquiry has been swept up by yours."

"We have many lines of investigation to pursue," said Lindemann uncomfortably.

"You have half of Hammelburg in custody. Tell me, captain, where are you planning to accommodate the rest of the population when you bring them in?"

Lindemann went red, and hung his head.

Hochstetter leaned back in his chair. "Effective immediately, I will be overseeing your investigation."

"But, _Herr Major_, your own work..." Lindemann met a glare that stopped him in his tracks. He lowered his head again, but gave his superior a hostile upward look.

"Have you finished interviewing the prisoners from Stalag 13 who were present at the incident?" Hochstetter went on

"Almost, _Herr Major._ None of them seems to have anything to tell us"

"_Everyone _has something to tell us," said Hochstetter, "whether they know it or not. It's just a question of how to extract the information."

"There are two I have not yet interrogated," Lindemann went on. "The two that were injured. As they were closest to the bridge, they may have seen something. I hope to get access to the one in hospital soon, and I will be returning to Stalag 13 tomorrow to interrogate the other."

"No," said Hochstetter. "I will take over interrogation of those men. You will stay away from them."

"So am I to continue my investigation among the citizens of Hammelburg?"

"Gestapo headquarters doesn't have enough cells for that, Captain Lindemann," replied Hochstetter acidly. He rose to leave. "No, please, Captain. Finish your _Schnapps_. We will talk in the morning. Early. _Heil Hitler._"

"And up yours too, chum," added Newkirk.

Lindemann watched as Hochstetter left. There was a curious expression on his face; not merely dislike, but something like suspicion. As soon as Hochstetter was out of sight, the captain went to the door and peered out. He pulled back quickly, as if afraid of being seen, waited a few seconds, then went out into the night. Newkirk, following, saw the rear lights of Hochstetter's staff car as it headed towards the centre of town. Lindemann got into another car, and went in the same direction.

_W__hy's he tailing Hochstetter? It's almost as if...no, he couldn't suspect...now there's an idea._

Newkirk stood transfixed in the road, considering the implications of what he'd just seen. Given the Berg connection, it suddenly seemed quite plausible that Hochstetter might have something to do with the incident, and that put a whole new angle on his behaviour. Instead of supervising Lindemann, perhaps he was undermining him. But Newkirk couldn't quite see his way through it; why should Major Hochstetter be involved in the destruction of a bridge? That didn't make any sense at all.

Coming out of his reverie, Newkirk looked around. The road was deserted; the Hofbrau behind him seemed to have fallen silent. He was on his own, and it made him nervous.

"Colonel Hogan?" he murmured. "Carter?" They couldn't be that far ahead. He was sure he'd scarcely been ten minutes. He set off along the road, beset by an indeterminate anxiety.

_I have to get back_, he thought. _I have to get home..._

No, that wasn't right. It wasn't home, not that cold, miserable place. He was stuck there for the duration, that was all.

The night wind was stirring the trees on the verge of the road, but made no sound; or at least, he couldn't hear anything. He was starting to feel disconnected, as if he no longer had anything he could hold on to; there was nothing familiar to bring him back to earth.

"Are you sure he'll be along soon, Colonel?" The sound of Carter's voice was like a lifeline, bringing him back from the edge of darkness.

"Any minute, Carter. He's just running a little late. More late than usual, I mean; he's _always _late, that's why we can rely on him."

Newkirk dropped into the undergrowth beside the road. He'd caught up; he wouldn't have to get back on his own. Hogan was leaning against a tree, watching the road. "We'll give him five minutes, and then we'd better go looking for him."

_They can't be talking about me, can they?_

Even as the thought formed in Newkirk's mind, Hogan raised his head a little, then stepped out into the road, holding up his hand to flag down the approaching truck.

The driver regarded him with the despair of a man accustomed, but by no means resigned, to finding himself in situations that were one step this side of a trip to Stalingrad. "Colonel Hogan," he whimpered, "what are you doing outside the camp?"

"Me and Carter just popped out for a beer, Schultz," replied Hogan. "Can you give us a ride back?"

Schultz's round blue eyes travelled from Hogan to Carter, who gave him a cheerful wave. "Hi, Schultz."

"Colonel Hogan, you have gone too far," Schultz began.

"No further than the Hofbrau," said Hogan, with perfect truth.

"I will have to tell the Kommandant, as soon as we get back to camp."

"Oh, come on, Schultz. We just needed a break. You know how it is, being stuck in the same place for days on end - it starts to feel like a prison camp after a while."

"You have a point," murmured Schultz. "I sometime feel as if - No, Colonel Hogan, do not make me do this. The Kommandant will have me shot. Or transferred to the Eastern Front. And I'd rather be shot. It's less painful."

"The Kommandant doesn't have to know," said Hogan. "Any more than he needs to know why you're so late coming back from Hammelburg."

"There was trouble with the engine," Schultz replied, with great dignity.

"What sort of trouble? Broken gasket? Fan belt? Gretchen or Maria?"

"Neither, it was Luisa...oh, I should not have said that." Schultz's face fell. "It was nothing, Colonel Hogan. I was minding my own business, just having a drink before I returned to Stalag 13, and she asked me for a light. That was all - well, maybe we flirted a little. "

"For three hours? Schultz, I'm disappointed in you. Wait till the Kommandant hears about this."

"You wouldn't tell the Kommandant, Colonel Hogan?" murmured Schultz pleadingly.

"I won't tell if you don't."

There was a moment of silence, while Schultz tried to find an alternative exit to the trap he had landed himself in. Then, with a poor grace, he gave in and allowed Hogan and Carter to get into the back of the truck.

At Hogan's request he let them off outside the camp, close to the emergency tunnel. Newkirk stayed with the truck until it was in the motor pool, then slipped away to the barracks. He got inside easily, now that he had the trick worked out, and came to rest on the floor, close to LeBeau. He was more disheartened than he had been since this started.

"I dunno," he said. "I'm startin' to think this is too hard for me."

LeBeau stirred. "What kind of a punch line is that?" he mumbled. Then, with a sharp intake of breath, he opened his eyes.

"Newkirk?" he whispered.


	9. Chapter 9

"Well, it's about bloody time," Newkirk burst out.

LeBeau sat up, supporting his weight on his arm, and gazed around the darkened barracks. "I know you're here, Newkirk," he said, in a quiet, anxious voice. "Talk to me."

"What do you think I've been doing the last two days?" replied Newkirk snappishly. "Not my fault nobody's been paying any attention."

LeBeau waited; then he sighed, and his shoulders slumped a little. "Please, Peter," he whispered, "just tell me you're here."

_Oh, bollocks_, thought Newkirk. _He's woken up, he can't hear me now._ It was a serious disappointment. So close...!

The tunnel entrance opened, and Carter appeared; Hogan was just behind him. "One other thing, Kinch," he was saying. "First thing tomorrow, see what you can find out about a guy named Josef Berg, from Hagendorf."

"Sure thing, Colonel," replied Kinch, coming up in his turn. They were speaking low to avoid disturbing anyone's sleep, but Newkirk could still hear them. "Is he involved in the bridge bombing?"

"Intimately. He was on the bridge when it went."

"Is _that_ who he is?"

"Yeah. There's something about the timing of the explosion that's bothered me all along. I'm starting to think maybe we've been looking at it from the wrong angle."

"Meaning, maybe it wasn't about the bridge at all," guessed Kinch.

"Right. So I want to know everything there is to know about this Berg, especially if anyone might have had it in for him."

Newkirk's spirits rose again. He might have known the governor would get on to that, one way or another. It was a start, anyway.

Kinch looked at his watch. "Our contacts in Düsseldorf should be receiving now, and they might have something on him."

Hogan nodded. "Okay. Let me know as soon as you get anything." He headed towards his quarters. As he went past, LeBeau leaned out of his bunk.

"Colonel," he whispered. "I need to talk to you. In private," he added, for Carter's benefit.

Carter looked hurt. "Don't mind me," he said, and climbed into the top bunk.

Hogan gave LeBeau a thoughtful glance. "Can it wait?"

"No," said LeBeau.

"Okay." Hogan gestured towards his office, followed LeBeau in and closed the door. He switched on the desk lamp, and waved LeBeau towards the lower bunk. "You better sit down. What's up?"

LeBeau hesitated. "Colonel..." He took a deep breath, and gripped the edge of the bunk. Newkirk got as close as he could, feeling cold with anxiety.

_Come on, Louis - just tell h__im._

"Earlier, when Carter was talking about hearing things, he was afraid you would think it was stupid," LeBeau said. "I don't know if you will or not, but I am afraid you won't believe it. I don't think I believe it myself."

"Go on," said Hogan.

"_Mon Colonel_, I have been hearing things, too. And I think I know what it is - _who _it is, I mean." He looked up, apprehensively. "I don't understand how it's possible, but I'm almost sure Newkirk is here."

There was a long silence.

"Newkirk is in the hospital at Hammelburg," said Hogan.

"I know. But..."

Hogan leaned against the desk, and rubbed his forehead. "Okay. Tell me everything."

LeBeau straightened up, and closed his eyes for a moment, thinking. "It started last night. You remember, Carter woke up, we thought he'd had a nightmare."

"I remember."

"Just before that, I thought - maybe I was dreaming, but I thought I heard something," LeBeau continued. "And tonight, it must have been just after you and Carter left, it happened again, and it woke me up."

"What makes you think it was Newkirk?"

"Who else would wake me in the night to tell me about the actress and the undertaker?" asked LeBeau. "He didn't even get to the good part," he added, in a slightly resentful tone.

"Oh, bloody marvellous," said Newkirk. "Everything that's been going on these two days, and that's the only thing that sank in with you. I might as well give up."

Hogan nodded, with a little half-smile. "Okay, I'll pass that. It sounds like Newkirk, all right. Anything else?"

LeBeau nodded. "Just before you came back in, he woke me again. I'm almost sure." He fell silent for a moment, then added, "I only hear him when I'm asleep, or nearly asleep, and it's hard to remember afterwards. The rest of the time...it's strange, it's almost like I can see something out of the corner of my eye, but when I look, there's nothing there. I think maybe Carter's feeling it, too."

Hogan folded his arms while he considered. "You know I don't buy into this sort of stuff. Still, Carter's been behaving a bit strangely, even for him." He gave the matter a few seconds of thought.

"Okay, LeBeau," he said. "You'll be sleeping in here for the rest of the night. So if you're right, and Newkirk is trying to get in touch, I'll be listening in."

It took hours for LeBeau to get to sleep. He was restless; given his injuries, he couldn't do much tossing and turning, but he was twitching a lot. Hogan, in the top bunk, started to wonder if this was going to work; and from that it wasn't a long step to wondering if he was insane for even contemplating it.

He had little else to go on. And LeBeau was reliable. He wouldn't have spoken unless he was pretty well convinced.

It made sense, in a weird way, that it should be Carter and LeBeau that were tuned in to whatever was going on. Of all the men in Stalag 13, they were the closest to Newkirk; and they both tended to think emotionally rather than rationally.

_Still doesn't explain Klink, though_, Hogan thought. _Unless stupidity works, as well. _

He was beginning to see his way, as far as understanding the bridge incident was concerned. It had never seemed convincing as an act of sabotage, but as an assassination, it worked; if the real target was Josef Berg, that explained the timing of the explosion.

Hogan had not been interested in Berg, up until now. He couldn't raise any particular concern over the man's death, but it made him furious that the consequential damage had included Newkirk and LeBeau, and that the ensuing Gestapo activity was endangering the whole Hammelburg organisation. If helping the Gestapo to solve the case was what it took to get the heat off, then so be it.

LeBeau's restlessness had eased; he sighed, and uttered a soft wordless muttering. Hogan looked over the edge of the bunk, then descended quietly. He switched on the light, and grabbed a pencil and paper.

Another low, unclear murmur from LeBeau; a pause, then, "_Oui...j'écoute..._"

_Not in French, LeBeau. Give __me a break_, thought Hogan. He sat on the edge of the bunk, and waited.

"Hospital..." said LeBeau. "Hochstetter...at the hospital." Hogan scribbled it down, and waited for more. "Berg?...No. Not him...his wife." LeBeau fell silent for several seconds, then whispered, "Lindemann..."

He was breathing fast, and Hogan was starting to wonder if he should wake him, when LeBeau gave a sudden tearing gasp, sat up and opened his eyes, staring at the colonel with a startled, frightened expression.

"Oh, blimey," he said, "what have I done now?"

Hogan caught his breath. "LeBeau?"

Behind him, he heard the door open. "Colonel..." said Kinch.

LeBeau grabbed the colonel's arm. "Gov'nor, I'm sorry. I think I just got a bit carried away."

"What the _hell..._?" murmured Kinch.

It was LeBeau's voice, but it was definitely not his accent.

He shook his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. Then he started speaking rapidly. "Hochstetter's been at the hospital. He was in my room, but I don't know what he wanted. He's also been checking on someone else. I think it might be Berg's missus. Lindemann - he followed Hochstetter from the Hofbrau last night. Looks at him like he suspects him of something. Hochstetter..." He broke off, and his eyes rolled back. Hogan caught him as he fell sideways; Kinch rushed to help, and they laid him gently back on the mattress. Hogan felt for a pulse.

"I think he's okay," he said.

"Colonel, what just happened?" asked Kinch. It took a lot to unnerve him this much.

Hogan was shaken, too. "I don't know, Kinch," he said.

"That was...it couldn't have been, could it?"

"I'm pretty sure it was," replied Hogan.


	10. Chapter 10

Kinch was dumbstruck. He looked at Hogan, then at LeBeau, opened his mouth to speak, then closed it and shook his head.

"Is something wrong?" asked Carter, in the doorway.

Hogan waved him in, with a warning glance at Kinch. "LeBeau had a nightmare. Don't wake him. Kinch, what have you got?"

Kinch pulled himself together with an effort, and consulted the notes he was still clutching. "Düsseldorf came through. Josef Berg, aged fifty-one. Lived just outside Hagendorf, in Neustadt. Owner of a meat-packing plant, contracted to supply a lot of military bases. Not sure why he was heading to Hammelburg, but his firm uses a transport company based there for deliveries in the south. His wife's brother - a man called Kurt Lessing - is the accountant at the transport firm. Lessing hasn't been seen for a couple of days, so he may have been pulled in by the Gestapo."

"Yeah, him and every third person in Hammelburg," Hogan remarked.

"There's more," Kinch went on. "It seems Berg's wife Charlotte has dropped out of sight, as well." He glanced at LeBeau. "Which ties in with something else we heard just now," he added in a low voice.

"If my husband was blown up, I'd be hiding, too," said Carter.

"She's not hiding," murmured Hogan. "How long has she been gone?"

"Almost a week," said Kinch.

"Anything else?"

"There are some rumours about Berg," Kinch went on. "Before the war, he was said to be not too particular about honesty in his business affairs. Apparently he made a hobby of invoicing for goods that weren't delivered, and shipping merchandise that wasn't recorded on the books. Small-time stuff, and he was clever enough to keep it that way, so he stayed out of trouble."

"Till now," added Hogan. "Well, there's scope for imagination there."

"I haven't finished, Colonel," Kinch went on. "After they had given me all of this, they asked me to change to another frequency. And then they told me all about Kurt Lessing."

"The brother-in-law?"

"Uh-huh. And he's a real piece of work. He's been employed by different operators in the black market for years. Back in '38, there was a big investigation. Lessing was implicated, but it never came to trial. Two of the key witnesses had accidents. And you'll love this. The investigation team included a friend of ours, sent down specially from Berlin."

Hogan's eyebrows went up. "Not Hochstetter?"

Kinch nodded. "Someone on that team seems to have scuppered the inquiry. The word around is that Lessing has friends in fairly high places that look after his interests. And in low places, as well."

Hogan took that in. He was looking at LeBeau, who hadn't stirred. "Didn't we hear somewhere that Lindemann is keeping a close watch on Hochstetter?"

"Yeah. So if Hochstetter's involved..."

"...then things just might be about to get really ugly," Hogan concluded

* * *

LeBeau seemed his usual self in the morning, although he looked tired and was a little snappish with everyone. He didn't seem to remember what had happened.

"What do we tell him?" Kinch asked.

"Nothing more than he needs to know, for now," replied Hogan. "Which is that he talked in his sleep, and gave us some information which may, or may not, be useful. Carter doesn't even need to know that much. I don't want either of them getting spooked by whatever's going on."

"Trust me, colonel," said Newkirk. "It won't happen again." He was feeling dazed, even though it was hours since he had found himself unintentionally taking over LeBeau's body. It had thoroughly frightened him, not only on his own account, but on LeBeau's as well. The fact that LeBeau seemed to have taken no harm from it was little consolation.

"When you call the hospital to check on Newkirk," Hogan went on, "see if you can find out if Charlotte Berg is a patient there. I'd like to know if we can trust the information we got last night. And try Copernicus; he might be able to help. Ask him about Lessing, too."

At the end of roll-call, as the prisoners waited to be dismissed, Carter said in a puzzled voice, "I thought Langenscheidt was guarding Newkirk, at the hospital."

"He was," said Hogan. He glanced sideways at the German corporal, standing at attention behind Schultz. "Are any of the other guards missing? Klink might have sent someone else to take over."

"I think they're all accounted for, Colonel," murmured Kinch.

"Dismissed!" came the order from the Kommandant, and the men fell out.

"I don't like it," said Hogan.

"I'm not wild about it either," murmured Newkirk. He hadn't realised that there were guards standing over him. It seemed a pointless exercise; as things stood he wasn't going anywhere. But of course, Klink would assume that an escape attempt was more than probable, and would take precautions.

Hogan had continued to speak: "Kinch, Carter - see what you can find out from Langenscheidt."

He leaned against the barracks wall, waiting. It didn't take long.

"It's not good news," said Kinch. "Apparently the Gestapo have taken over guarding Newkirk. Hochstetter's men. He was there this morning, first thing."

"Oh, brilliant," said Newkirk. "Special attention from the Gestapo. I can't remember the last time I had this much fun in one week."

"Does Langenscheidt know why?" Hogan asked.

"No idea."

"Colonel, I really don't like this," Carter said. "Can't we bust Newkirk out of there?"

"And where would we put him, Carter? We're not set up for intensive care. Until he comes out of it, he's better off where he is."

Kinch raised his head, looking towards the gate. "Uh-oh. Guess who's here."

Hogan watched the staff car driving in. "Carter, inside," he said quietly. "Better if Hochstetter doesn't get a good look at you, after last night. Kinch, go and try Copernicus. Ask him if he can get the information to us by this afternoon, in the official mail."

LeBeau and Carter, along with Newkirk, joined him in his quarters as he set up the hidden coffee-pot receiver to listen in on the Kommandant's office. They heard the door of Klink's office open, and Hochstetter's dentist-drill voice: "Kommandant Klink."

"Major Hochstetter," squeaked Klink. "What a pleasant surprise."

Hochstetter interrupted the Kommandant's blatherings without ceremony. "I am here to interrogate some of your prisoners, in relation to the act of sabotage two days ago."

Klink was moved to protest. "But Captain Lindemann already interviewed the prisoners."

"Not all of them. Corporal LeBeau was not available for questioning," said Hochstetter. "I will interrogate him first, and then I have a few additional questions for the other men who were present."

"Great," said Hogan. "Just what we need."

"I think I have a migraine coming on," muttered LeBeau. "What am I supposed to say? I didn't see anything, I didn't hear anything." He was starting to sound like Schultz. "And if I had, I wouldn't tell him."

"Just stick to that. But be careful. If he is involved, we can't take a chance on him thinking you know anything. And we can't let him get round to questioning Carter, in case he recognises him from last night. Could you pull off a fainting spell, if you needed to?"

"I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Not even under torture," replied LeBeau with dignity.

"LeBeau - hold it," said Hogan, as they heard the Kommandant's phone ringing.

Newkirk felt a prickling sensation. He looked towards the door. Charlotte Berg was there again. But there was something different. She was very still, and seemed unaware of where she was.

Distantly, he heard the Kommandant's voice, coming through the receiver: "Hello?...Yes....It's for you, Major. The hospital."

"This is Major Hochstetter speaking...Yes...Yes...When?...No, I will come at once...Kommandant, an urgent matter has come up. I will come back later. _Heil Hitler_."

"What's happened?" Newkirk asked. The woman did not reply. It was as if she didn't hear him.

For a few seconds everything was still. Then Carter burst out, "Oh, for Pete's sake, sir!" And as if some connection was broken by the sound, Charlotte Berg was gone.

LeBeau joined Carter in a barrage of protest and exclamation. Hogan held up a hand for silence. "Okay. Enough. Carter, get Kinch up here."

Before Carter could move, Kinch came in at a rush. "Hochstetter just had a call from..."

"We know. We heard him."

"It's not about Newkirk," said Kinch quickly. "We're still tapped into Klink's outside line. I listened in. The call was from one of Hochstetter's men. Wait," he went on, as Carter and LeBeau started to speak, both at once. "There's another patient Hochstetter's been interested in. That's who they called about. She just died."

Hogan drew a deep breath. "Let me guess. Charlotte Berg."


	11. Chapter 11

"Mail's in," said Hogan. "Carter, Baker, go."

The afternoon mail delivery had become so routine, the guards at the gate only glanced at the courier's papers before letting him through. He parked his motorcycle and walked to the office, fiddling with the strap on the mail bag. He seemed to be having some trouble with it.

Baker and Carter had started throwing a football. As the courier approached, Baker called, "Go wide, Carter."

Carter started running backwards, his eyes fixed on the ball as Baker threw it high. The courier, distracted, didn't see him coming. They collided and went down in a heap, and the bag flew open, spilling letters in all directions. Several of the prisoners ran to help, and in the confusion nobody saw the courier furtively passing into Carter's hands of one of the letters, which Carter quickly hid inside his jacket.

As Schultz was shooing the men away, Carter came back to the barracks door. "Got it, Colonel."

Hogan followed him inside. He took the envelope from Carter, tore it open and extracted a single page on official stationery.

"New directive regarding official communications," he read out. "Any future reference in internal memoranda to general memoranda is to be interpreted as applying to general memoranda, unless the internal memorandum referring to general memoranda is intended for general distribution, in which case, for general memoranda, read internal memoranda throughout."

"Someone's got way too much time on his hands," said Kinch, looking up from the shirt he was pressing.

Newkirk, hanging over his shoulder, reached out to test the iron. Since that odd business with LeBeau, he had found that his tactile sense was a lot sharper than it had been before. He was much more able to sense things by touch, although he didn't seem to be able to move them.

"You'll never get the creases out with that," he remarked. "Not hot enough, mate. Haven't I taught you anything?"

Hogan passed the page over to Kinch. "Just run the iron over that, will you?"

Half a minute later, Kinch handed it back. The heat had brought out the hidden message on the back of the page.

Carter leaned over the colonel's arm, and wrinkled up his nose. "Are they using vinegar now? I thought they used lemon juice for secret messages."

"Have you priced lemons lately?" said Kinch.

"Yeah, Carter. Don't you know there's a war on?" added LeBeau.

"Settle down, guys. No squabbling," said Hogan. "It's from Copernicus. Confirms what we already know, that Hochstetter's been monitoring a female patient – they couldn't get a name for her. Also that there are two Gestapo guards posted outside Newkirk's room. Nobody in or out, except approved medical staff, and Hochstetter himself."

"That can't be good," said Newkirk, quietly.

Hogan continued to scan the letter. "As far as they can tell, the Gestapo don't have Kurt Lessing. But they have netted most of the other transport company staff, including the warehouse manager, the assistant warehouse manager, the dispatch controller – night shift – three of the drivers and the filing clerk. They only need the tea lady and they've got a full set," he added. "Captain Lindemann seems very interested in that trucking company."

Hogan began pacing again, and to keep out of his way, Newkirk retreated to the bunk where Carter was already sitting.

"Okay," said Hogan at last. "I'm starting to see a couple of ways this might have gone down. First, we've got Lessing. Let's assume that there was something dodgy going on at that transport firm, and Berg was involved. He has supply contracts with the military, so there's scope for fraud there. Lessing and Berg have a falling out - Lessing takes extreme action."

"Where would he get the explosives?" asked Kinch, as he thought it through.

"He's got friends in the black market, he calls in a couple of favours. Then, there's Hochstetter," Hogan went on. "If he was part of it - let's say Berg or Lessing was paying him off. Something goes wrong, Hochstetter feels threatened, so..."

There was a silence as everyone considered this theory. Finally Kinch said, "What if Hochstetter and Lessing are in it together?"

Hogan shrugged. "Not impossible. But if I were Lessing, the last person on earth I'd trust right now would be Hochstetter. And I imagine Hochstetter would be watching his back every minute, too."

Newkirk stirred. "Beg pardon, sir - and feel free to ignore me, I'm getting used to it - but where does Charlotte Berg fit in?"

Carter tilted his head a little to one side, as if he had heard something. "What about Charlotte Berg, Colonel?" he asked.

Newkirk stared at him in astonishment. So did LeBeau.

"Hard to say," Hogan admitted. "She might have known something about whatever Berg and Lessing were up to. If you're prepared to neutralise one threat, it makes sense to tidy up around the edges as well."

"But she was Lessing's sister," protested Carter.

"Yeah. She was," said Hogan.

"And Newkirk?" asked LeBeau quietly.

Hogan took a deep breath, and folded his arms. "He was closer to the blast than anyone else. He might have seen something. Hochstetter's got him isolated, so if he wakes up, there's nobody he can tell."

"If Hochstetter thought that, wouldn't he do something about it?" said Kinch.

"Maybe. Maybe not. If anything happens to Newkirk, questions are going to be asked - Burkhalter's likely to get involved. He hates Hochstetter, and he'd love to bring him down. So perhaps Hochstetter wants to be sure of what Newkirk knows, before he takes any action."

"Well, he's in for a surprise," Newkirk snapped back, "because I didn't see a thing."

"He'll be real disappointed," murmured Carter, and Newkirk looked at him again.

"Andrew, you're starting to scare me," he said Either he was getting better at this, or Carter was.

It was LeBeau who picked up on it. "Why do you say that, Carter?"

"Because Newkirk didn't see anything," replied Carter, as if stating the obvious.

"How do you know he didn't?" LeBeau persisted, while Hogan stopped pacing, and looked from one man to the other.

Carter's forehead wrinkled in thought, then further in anxiety. "I'm not sure," he said at last. He looked around nervously. "Guys, there's something funny going on. I don't know if it's just me, but...does anyone else feel like there's someone looking over their shoulder all the time?"

Newkirk gazed at him wonderingly. "And there was me thinking LeBeau would get there first," he said. "Carter, sometimes you astound me."

It was clear that Carter was seriously troubled. Hogan sent a look of enquiry to LeBeau, who nodded, reluctantly. "I've noticed it, too, _mon Colonel_."

The colonel glanced at Kinch, who was looking deeply perturbed. Then he sat down, with a decisive air.

"Carter," he said, "I think there's something you need to know."

Carter sat in stunned silence for some time after Hogan had explained the situation. The colonel held back only what had happened to LeBeau in the night; he had a feeling that bit of information was best kept quiet for now.

"Well, if I don't give him a good talking to when he gets back," Carter broke out at last. "What's he want to go fooling round for, scaring people half to death?"

"Carter, he's not fooling. He's trying his best to talk to us," said LeBeau.

"Well, why didn't he just - I don't know, knock on the walls, or move stuff around, or something? That would have got my attention, anyhow."

"He's not a poltergeist, Carter."

"And he's not as clever as he thinks he is, either." Newkirk added. "Sorry, Carter. I never even thought of it." He made an experimental dab at a corner of the blanket hanging over the edge of the upper bunk. It didn't even flutter, although he could feel it, as he had the hot iron. Something new to practice, when he had the time.

Carter was still angry. "It's not right. Doesn't he know how worried we all are? He's supposed to be a friend of mine."

LeBeau looked at Hogan in despair, but it was Kinch who spoke up. "Andrew." Carter glared at him. "You should be flattered. He's my friend, too, and I haven't heard a thing from him." Kinch let that sink in, then added, "Carter, if the situation was reversed, and you were stuck in some weird limbo state trying to get in touch - who's the first person you'd try?"

Carter thought for a moment. He bit his lower lip, as it began to tremble a little. Finally, he said, in a very low voice, "Newkirk."

"That's right. So it's no surprise that he would turn to you, is it?" Kinch turned to Hogan. "Where do we go from here, Colonel? Are we going after Hochstetter, or Lessing?"

Hogan considered both options. "Too hard to choose," he said at last. "Let's have both."

"It's won't be easy. We don't even know where Lessing is right now."

"No, we don't," Hogan agreed. "But I bet I can guess who does."


	12. Chapter 12

Whatever effect the Gestapo crackdown might be having on other local businesses, this particular establishment was doing a roaring trade. Of course, it was not the most respectable place in town, but that had its benefits. For instance, it was likely the young woman who was watching Hogan from across the room would not have been welcome in more reputable premises.

She gave him a smile as she caught his eye, then sauntered over to his table. She was a pretty little thing, with a neat, slender figure shown to advantage by the closely fitted dress she was wearing. "All alone?" she asked. "A nice, handsome man like you?"

"Can't beat bad luck," replied Hogan, returning the smile.

"Perhaps you'd like some company," she went on.

"Maybe later. I've got some business to see to first."

"I'll look forward to it." She strolled off towards a group of _Waffen-SS_ officers, who were making a great deal of noise on the other side of the room.

"Blimey," remarked Newkirk, "The birds are friendly round these parts. How come we've never come here before, sir?"

Hogan had come in alone, as far as he knew. He had Kinch and Carter waiting outside in the Kommandant's car, but in case of trouble he was on his own, except for Newkirk, and Newkirk's options for helping out were limited. If anything went wrong, he hoped that he could get Carter's attention, and once that was done, he could trust Kinch to take it from there. But he wasn't at all confident about it.

Hogan downed his beer, then went over to the bar and gestured to the barman. "I was told I'd find Hermann here tonight," he said.

The barman, engaged in polishing a glass, glanced up at him. "Hermann's not available."

"That's a shame," said Hogan, with a slight shrug. "I was hoping to do some business with him. A friend told me he's the man to see if you're looking for merchandise that's hard to come by."

"Come back tomorrow."

"By tomorrow I might have made other arrangements. There's always other suppliers, if the buyer's prepared to pay. And I'm prepared to pay."

The man hesitated. "Wait here," he said. He left the bar and went to what Hogan assumed was the back office. After a couple of minutes, he returned, and indicated with a jerk of his thumb that Hogan could go in.

Newkirk stayed close as the colonel made his way to the back room, weaving between the other customers. This crowded place was worse than the barracks, and the increased level of tactile sense he was experiencing only intensified his discomfort.

The office, by comparison, was quiet and dark, and once Hogan had closed the door, the noise from outside was inaudible. The man sitting behind the desk did not look up from the ledger he was consulting. "Take a seat," he said.

"You're Hermann?" said Hogan.

The man glanced at him. "Yes. And you are..."

"You can call me Franz. It has a nice ring to it." Hogan sat, and leaned back comfortably. Newkirk scanned the room for other exits. No windows; only the one door. He didn't like it.

"So, Franz," Hermann went on, "I'm told you're interested in our supply service."

"That's right."

"And who was it that recommended me?"

"A mutual friend," Hogan replied. "We don't name names in my line of work."

"Which is...?"

"Just business, Hermann. That's all you need to know."

"What exactly are you interested in?"

Hogan proceeded to lay out the bait. "I'm having some security issues. You know how it is in wartime, there's some people you just can't trust. So I'm looking to outfit my staff with a bit of personal protection."

"Weapons?" Hermann laughed quietly. "What makes you think we carry that kind of stock?"

"I know you do, Hermann," replied Hogan.

The man considered, then shrugged. "Depending on what you're after, it could run expensive," he said with a smile.

"I'm sure we can negotiate," murmured Hogan. "But that's where things get a little tricky. You see, I only discuss money matters with principals. I'll need to talk to your boss."

The smile faded from Hermann's face. "I'm afraid that won't be possible."

"Then I'm afraid we don't have anything more to talk about," replied Hogan, standing up.

"Don't be so hasty," Hermann said. "Sit down. I'll make some enquiries."

He left the room, and Hogan took his seat again. He was outwardly calm, but Newkirk could sense the tension in his shoulders.

He didn't move when the door opened. After a moment he glanced at the newcomer, then at the pistol pointed at him.

"Well, you really are a persistent girl, aren't you?" he drawled. "I said, maybe later."

"I'd love to know where she was hiding that," murmured Newkirk. He hesitated on the brink of flying for Carter, but held off; the colonel seemed to have everything in hand, so far. He was usually good at managing women, one way or another.

The girl's aim didn't falter. "Who are you?" she asked crisply.

"I told your man, my name is Franz."

"I know what you told Hermann," she said. "But it's not a typical American name, is it? You should work on your accent; it gives you away."

"I'll bear that in mind."

"Your name, please."

"You tell me yours, I'll tell you mine."

She smiled. "Very well, Franz it is."

"So," Hogan went on, "do I have the pleasure of speaking to the boss?"

"I'm in charge here."

"So you must be Aline," he said. "Sorry - I cheated a bit. I know about you."

The smile left her face. "Oh, you're a clever one," she remarked. "I can see you'll bear watching." She sat on the edge of the desk, but kept the gun in hand. "Hermann tells me you're interested in doing some business."

"That's right. But I didn't tell him the full story. That's for your ears only."

"Go on."

"I need to find a certain person, and I'm pretty sure you know where he is. His name is Lessing, Kurt Lessing. I know he has black market connections, and I know he's anxious not to be found."

"I know Kurt," Aline admitted. "What do you want with him?"

"I think he might know something about the bridge bombing a couple of days ago, and I'm anxious to get the matter cleared up, before the Gestapo get too close to my own...business interests," said Hogan, choosing his words with care. "I imagine you'd like to see them back off, too. It can't be easy, running a network like yours under the circumstances."

She was too bright to confirm or deny that. "How do I know you're not Gestapo yourself?" she asked.

"You don't."

"Oh, I think I do," she said. "I know where Kurt is. I can arrange for you to speak to him. But I won't have him handed over to the Gestapo."

"That's very loyal of you."

"Not at all. He knows far too much about our organisation. I'll see him dead first. And you with him, if necessary." She glanced at the clock above the door. "We have a warehouse, just out of town on the Hammelburg Road. Zwingelman and Co., Bookbinders. Be there in three hours. I'll bring him to you."

Hogan nodded, and stood up. "I'll be there."

As he reached the door, Aline spoke again. "Oh, by the way, you said you know a bit about me. I like to keep up with everything going on in my area, and I think I can guess a few things about you, too."

He looked inquiringly at her, and she smiled. "There aren't many Americans operating around Hammelburg. So it's not that difficult to guess who you are. I'll see you in a few hours - Papa Bear."


	13. Chapter 13

"Are we sure we trust this woman?" asked Kinch, as they surveyed the warehouse from the cover of the trees.

"We don't," replied Hogan. "But at the moment we don't have a choice. Lessing's the key to all this, and we can't get to him except on Aline's terms."

"So for all we know, she's cut a separate deal with the Gestapo, and this is a trap."

"Could be."

"Or she was in on the whole thing from the start, and _she_ took care of Berg."

"Maybe."

"But you don't think so."

Hogan shrugged. "What can I say? She can't be all bad. She's a natural blonde." Then, as Kinch continued to look doubtful, he added, "Okay, she knows I'm Papa Bear, and once this is over she's perfectly capable of selling us out, but right now, she wants the heat off as much as we do. So let's just get on with it."

He looked at his watch. "Kinch, you keep watch. Carter, with me. And if you hear anything, you tell me." He didn't mention Newkirk, but had no doubt he was there, somehow or other.

Aline's people were ready for them. Hermann was lounging outside the door; he opened the door to let them in, but stayed outside.

"So, you made it," said Aline, in a mocking tone.

"I never miss a date with a pretty girl," replied Hogan. He looked around the packed storage area. "The book business must be doing well."

"Twenty thousand copies of _Mein Kampf_," she replied. "All ready for when the Russian market opens up. That's what we tell the inspectors when they come, anyway. They never look past the first twenty boxes. Not even past the first twenty pages."

She was sitting at her ease on an upturned wooden crate. Enveloped in a dark workman's overall and a heavy jacket, she still managed to look like something special. On another crate was perched a small, pudgy man in his late forties.

"Is this Lessing?" asked Hogan.

"Kurt, stand up and be polite," said Aline, in a motherly voice. "This nice gentleman is going to help us sort out your little problem."

Lessing got up awkwardly, and looked around as if wondering what he was doing here. "I didn't do it," he said, in a thin, uneven voice, like a clarinet with a broken reed.

Aline laughed. "He keeps saying that."

"Protesting too much?" suggested Hogan. They both looked at the little man, and without consultation decided on the best strategy for dealing with him.

Newkirk was increasingly unhappy. No more than Kinch did he trust that woman, but it was Lessing that really worried him. The man kept both his hands in his pockets, which seemed unnatural. _I better check what he's got in there_, Newkirk decided, with a feeling of distaste.

Whether Lessing sensed he was there or not, something was making the man uneasy. He took a few steps to one side. "It's true," he insisted, his eyes darting from Hogan's face to Aline's. "I know who did it, but if I say anything, I'm dead."

"You may well be anyway, Kurt," said Aline gently. "So the question is, are you more frightened of someone else than you are of me, isn't it?" Lessing blanched, and shot a look of appeal at Hogan.

"Don't look at me," said the colonel, in a bored voice. "So far, I've got you down for killing your brother-in-law - which doesn't trouble me much - and messing up my operation, which does." He could have added _and putting one of my men in a coma_, but that was the sort of clue that might lead Aline straight to Stalag 13, and he preferred that she didn't know more about that than she had to. She already knew he was Papa Bear; if she found out where he was based, things could go downhill very fast indeed.

Lessing, agitated, started wandering about, but his hands stayed in his pockets. Newkirk sidled up to him again. The investigation didn't take long. _Ruddy hell! _he thought, as he moved towards Carter, who had stayed by the door.

"Carter," said Newkirk. "Lessing's got a knife." As he had expected, it didn't register. Carter was too busy watching the others.

"You know I couldn't have done it," Lessing said, turning back to the girl. "Where would I get the materials, if I didn't get them from you?"

"My dear Kurt, how should I know?" she replied.

"Yeah, who knows what other dirty little pies you've got your fingers in?" Hogan added. "Look, we don't have all night. If you're prepared to come clean, I promise we will get you safely out of Germany. If not, well, you can take your chances with the Gestapo."

Lessing was sweating. "No. Please, you have to help me." His restless movements had brought him close to the door, and Carter took a couple of steps to block the exit.

"Carter..!" said Newkirk.

Hogan was frowning. "Lessing, you'd better come and sit down. We've still got a lot to talk about."

Lessing glanced at him, and then and Aline. He turned towards the door, and Carter. As he stepped forward, his hand came out of his pocket.

"Carter - look out!" Hogan burst out. Carter gave a start, and instinctively stepped back. It gave Newkirk just enough time. Without thinking - without even realising he could do it - he struck out, pushing Lessing's arm away from Carter. The knife fell from Lessing's hand, and before he could make a recover, Aline ran forward and kicked it out of his reach.

"Kurt, I'm disappointed in you," she said. "I'm beginning to think you're not worth the trouble you've caused us." She picked up the knife, and regarded it critically. "You're an embarrassment, Kurt. I ought to shoot you right now for that."

"I don't think so," Hogan interrupted. "If anyone's having that pleasure, it's going to be me."

"That man of yours is good," Aline added, nodding towards Carter. "I didn't even see him move."

"You'd be surprised what my people are capable of," replied Hogan. He knew perfectly well it wasn't Carter who had disarmed Lessing. That was something else he didn't want her to know about.

Lessing had returned to the crate, where he sat breathing hard. He looked as if he might take a seizure any moment. Time to reduce the pressure.

"Okay, Lessing. I believe you didn't kill Berg," Hogan said. "But you know all about it. So let's have the story. Then we can talk about whether I'm prepared to help you. After that stunt, I'm having second thoughts. So you'd better convince me."

As Lessing still hesitated, Aline added, "I think you should, Kurt. Because if this man doesn't take care of you, I will. Start from the beginning."

Seeing no help for it, Lessing gave in. He cleared his throat, and took a deep breath. "About two years ago, Josef managed to get some contracts to supply the military. Before that, he'd handled his own deliveries, but this was bigger than he was used to, so he contracted that side of things out. As his wife is my sister, it was natural he'd send the business in my direction. Then he started thinking about ways to improve the cash flow."

"Dodgy deliveries," Hogan guessed. "Fake invoices, falsified log books, that sort of thing."

Lessing nodded. "He'd always been creative in his record keeping. This was just on a bigger scale. But that caused trouble. The local Gestapo got interested. I thought we were dead," he added, in a shaking voice, "but then the investigating officer made an offer. He'd turn a blind eye, if we cut him in. So for the last year, we've been paying him off." He fell silent, reluctant to go further.

Aline leaned forward. "You mean the senior officer - Major Hochstetter."

Before Lessing could answer, Hogan spoke. "No. It wasn't Hochstetter, was it?"

"No," said Lessing. "It was the other one. Captain Lindemann."


	14. Chapter 14

There was a momentary silence, before Aline laughed. "Ah, well, I had a fifty-fifty chance of getting it right. But I didn't think Lindemann had it in him."

"You know how it is. Inside every Gestapo there's a shakedown man trying to get out," said Hogan. "So what went wrong, Lessing? How did your neat little arrangement with Lindemann end up getting Berg killed?"

Lessing held up his hands. "Hochstetter. He's had an eye on me for years. He's never forgotten that he couldn't make a case against me in 1938."

"They always obsess about the one that got away. I guess it was someone else on his team that looked after things for you back then."

"Someone higher up than Hochstetter. I'm not saying any more than that. But Hochstetter wouldn't let it go. He's always on my back."

"I know the feeling," said Hogan. "What happened?"

"Somehow he got on to what we were doing. Lindemann kept saying it was okay, he had things covered. But then last week, Hochstetter took Josef's wife, my sister Charlotte, in for questioning."

"What does she know about it?" Aline asked.

"Probably nothing. Josef never told her anything about his business affairs, and she doesn't even speak to me."

"Hochstetter wouldn't know that," said Hogan. "Berg's wife, your sister - it'd be natural to assume she knew something. Then what?"

"Lindemann panicked. He called me and said to get Josef to Hammelburg for a meeting, to discuss the situation. I swear I didn't know what he was planning to do. When I heard about the bomb, I knew I'd be next."

"And he came to me," Aline added. "The alternative being Hochstetter."

"No contest," said Hogan. "I know who I'd go to."

"You're a bad man, Papa Bear," she murmured. "So, can you help our little friend?"

"Maybe." Hogan began pacing. "But I'll need his complete cooperation. And it goes against the grain, but I think we're going to have to bring Hochstetter into it."

"I won't deal with Hochstetter," Lessing stammered.

"Forget it, then."

"Kurt, you're getting tiresome," said Aline. "I've been quite patient with you, but enough is enough. You'll do as this man instructs you, and no questions asked."

Lessing sent another desperate look towards Hogan, who spread his hands. "Can't help you, if you don't help me, Lessing."

"You swear I'll be safe?"

"If you do exactly what I tell you, we can pull it off. It's up to you." He beckoned Aline to one side.

"Can you get him to play ball?" he asked quietly.

She smiled. "I'll see to it. Believe me, no matter how scared he is of Major Hochstetter, I can beat it."

"Good." Hogan meditated for a moment, working out how to proceed. "There's a POW camp - Stalag 13. Some of the prisoners were at the bridge, and Hochstetter is supposed to be interrogating some of them. If you can deliver Lessing to us near there, we can get him to Hochstetter, and arrange his escape afterwards. Tomorrow afternoon, at two o'clock. There's a turnoff from the road just before the camp comes into view; take that turn, my men will meet you and take our friend off your hands."

Aline regarded him with a smile. "I've heard you're quite resourceful, Papa Bear," she said. "If this scheme works out, maybe we can talk. I could use a man like you."

"Thanks. But I'm fully committed for the duration," replied Hogan.

* * *

"How did you know it was Lindemann?" Kinch asked.

"Yeah, I want to know that and all," Newkirk added. "I had Hochstetter down front and centre for it. I'm quite disappointed, actually."

It was morning, in the barracks, just after roll-call. Hogan rubbed his eyes. "I'll be glad when this is over, and I can get a night's sleep," he murmured.

"We could all use some sleep," Kinch admitted. "But what about Lindemann?"

"I couldn't be sure, till Lessing confirmed it," Hogan said. "But there are two possible reasons why Hochstetter would have his own men guarding Newkirk. One is to stop him from talking, and I've never been quite satisfied with that; it doesn't ring true. The other - and you're not going to like it - is to keep Newkirk safe."

Three men - four if Newkirk was counted - stared at him, completely taken aback.

"Hochstetter is _protecting _him?" LeBeau stuttered, outraged.

"I know, it sounds all wrong," said Hogan. "But look at it from Hochstetter's point of view. Lindemann's handling the case, and he's handling it badly, on purpose. He's dragged in a whole lot of suspects, just to confuse the issue, and to hide his interest in Lessing and the transport company. Obviously he wants to keep anyone working there from talking, so he brings them in as well. Among so many, he can make sure nobody gets round to questioning them."

"And Hochstetter's on to him," said Kinch. "He's not stupid."

"Right. Hochstetter knows there's a possible eyewitness, who can't be questioned till he regains consciousness, and who's helpless if anyone wants to get to him. So he pushes Lindemann off the case to keep him away from Newkirk, and puts his own men on guard, with strict instructions to keep him safe until he can be interrogated."

"He obviously didn't manage to keep Charlotte Berg safe," LeBeau pointed out. "Was that why Lindemann was following Hochstetter, to find her?"

Hogan sighed. "That's my guess. Lessing said Hochstetter had her in for questioning. Some people don't do well under that kind of pressure. I'm guessing she collapsed under interrogation - heart attack, something like that. We may never know for sure. Lindemann might have gotten to her afterwards at the hospital, or she may just have died as a result of whatever happened when Hochstetter was questioning her. Either way, it's just another item to put down on Hochstetter's account."

Carter looked slightly ill. "I don't know what you guys think, but having Hochstetter on our side sounds...kind of dirty."

"How do you think I feel about it?" Newkirk muttered.

"The whole thing's dirty from start to finish, Carter," said Hogan.

"Okay, so what's the plan?" asked Kinch.

"Haven't got it all worked out yet. We need to find a reason to get both Lindemann and Hochstetter here, so we can produce Lessing at the appropriate moment." Hogan got up and began pacing.

"Hochstetter's supposed to be coming back to question LeBeau," Kinch reminded him.

Hogan shook his head. "No good. That doesn't get us Lindemann."

"If Lindemann thought Louis knew anything," said Newkirk, "he'd be here like a shot."

He assumed that nobody heard him, but then LeBeau spoke. "Colonel..."

"_No_, LeBeau. Don't you dare," Newkirk tried to intervene, but it was hopeless.

"Have Klink call Lindemann and tell him I saw something. He'll come for that."

Hogan considered. "Too dangerous. And I don't think it would work. Klink knows Lindemann's off the case. He'd call Hochstetter."

"Not if I say I'll only talk to Lindemann," LeBeau persisted.

"Then we don't get Hochstetter," said Kinch.

Hogan stopped pacing. "Maybe we do. What's the one thing any competent secret policeman makes sure he does?"

"He bugs all the other secret police," Kinch admitted. "So if Klink calls Lindemann, Hochstetter knows about it straight away."

"Exactly. You're sure you want to take the risk, LeBeau? If Lindemann thinks you're trying to blackmail him..."

"I won't let it get that far, _mon Colonel_."

Hogan closed his eyes for a moment, running through the possibilities. "Okay. LeBeau, we go to Klink, get him to call Lindemann. Kinch, Carter, you go out the emergency tunnel and meet Lessing. You wait till both Lindemann and Hochstetter have arrived, then you send Lessing to the front gate. He's to ask to speak to Hochstetter. Don't let him back out - shoot him in the leg if you have to. All we need is for both Lindemann and Hochstetter to know he's here. After that, we'll have to leave it in Hochstetter's hands."

"What about afterwards?" Kinch asked. "You gave Lessing a pretty cast-iron guarantee."

"Hochstetter will probably send him back to Hammelburg for questioning. We'll have the Underground intercept them, and start Lessing on the way to Switzerland. Not to England. I don't want him running loose in London."

"How about Newkirk?" Carter asked.

"Once Lindemann's been arrested, he should be safe. If it's true that he didn't see anything, Hochstetter will lose interest in him."

Carter sighed. "Colonel, it's been four days."

"I know, Carter."

"What if..." Carter hesitated. "What if he never wakes up?"

LeBeau and Kinch looked at each other. It was something they'd all considered, but nobody had wanted to put it into words.

"Carter," said Hogan at last, "that's something we can't fix."

Newkirk tried to find something to say, but seeing Carter so distressed on his account moved him too deeply. He got closer, and patted his friend's shoulder. It was all he could do. Carter continued to look troubled for a few seconds. Then he gave himself a shake, and tried to smile.

"He'll be back," he said. "Of course he will."

Nobody - not even Newkirk himself - had the heart to try to convince him otherwise.


	15. Chapter 15

There were so many ways the plan could go wrong, it made Hogan's head ache to think about it. If Kinch and Carter were caught outside the wire; if Lessing lost his nerve and went off-script; or if Hochstetter didn't turn up at all, the whole scheme would collapse. And that wasn't even taking into account the real possibility of a double-cross from the black-market lady.

"It's not too late to back out," said Kinch.

Hogan shook his head. "No, we'll go ahead," he said quietly. "My main concern is LeBeau. Any hitches, and he could end up in real trouble. Lindemann's dangerous. Let's just hope Hochstetter doesn't take too long to get here."

Kinch gave a short laugh. "I never thought we'd be saying that."

"Yeah, it's a twisted world we're living in right now." Hogan checked his watch. "Show time. Wish us luck." He raised his voice. "You ready, LeBeau?"

"_Oui, Colonel_."

"Okay. Let's make it good."

LeBeau set off towards Klink's office, at a determined trot. Hogan let him get halfway before following. Entering the outer office, LeBeau spoke to the secretary. "I want to speak to the Kommandant."

Helga shook her head, with a little negative pout. "The Kommandant does not wish to be disturbed."

"It's urgent," LeBeau insisted, just as Hogan came in.

"LeBeau, I thought I told you to leave it," he said, raising his voice. "No good can come of bringing it up now."

LeBeau turned on him. "I know what you said," he shouted. "You're always saying it. Well, for once I'm not listening to you."

"LeBeau, do you know who you're speaking to?"

"I don't care who you think you are."

"Oh, really? We'll see about that. Back to the barracks."

"No!"

"What is going on?" The Kommandant's voice broke in on what was developing into a splendid row.

"Nothing, Kommandant, nothing at all," said Hogan quickly. "We were just leaving. Sorry to disturb you. LeBeau..."

With an angry swipe, LeBeau pushed away the hand Hogan had placed on his shoulder. "I'm here to speak to the Kommandant," he growled.

Hogan laughed uneasily. "He doesn't want to be bothered with your fevered imaginings, LeBeau. Just forget about it. You didn't see anything."

"One moment, Hogan," Klink interrupted. "What does this man want to speak to me about?"

"Kommandant..." Hogan shot a furious look at LeBeau, who returned it with interest. "It's just...he's got an idea in his head about something he thinks he saw a couple of days ago. You know how imaginative the French are."

As LeBeau squared up for a second round, Klink interrupted. "Silence!" He glared at the two men. "We will talk in my office. Fräulein Helga, see we are not disturbed."

LeBeau sent a scornful look towards his commanding officer, raising his chin in a manner that would normally earn him a sharp reprimand, and stalked into Klink's office.

Hogan, as he passed Helga's desk, managed to knock a pile of letters onto the floor. He quickly picked them up, with an apology, and as he handed them to her, whispered, "Make yourself scarce." It would be safer for Helga if she was out of the way. Then he followed LeBeau.

Klink took his seat behind the desk, while LeBeau stood before him, upright and defiant. Hogan folded his arms and looked displeased.

"Well, LeBeau?" said the Kommandant.

LeBeau sniffed, and glanced at Hogan. "I have a statement to make about the incident four days ago."

"You mean the sabotage of the bridge?"

"Yes, Kommandant."

"Don't believe him, sir" said Hogan quickly. "He hasn't been well, you know. Probably still has concussion."

"Hogan, if you don't keep quiet, I will put you on report. Go on, LeBeau."

LeBeau shook his head. "I will only talk to Captain Lindemann."

"You want to talk to the Gestapo?" said Klink slowly.

"_Oui_."

"I find this very suspicious," Klink went on. "Nobody _wants_ to talk to the Gestapo. Not ever."

"I agree, sir," said Hogan quickly. "It's suspicious, all right. Very suspicious. I'll just take LeBeau back to the barracks, and we'll forget the whole thing."

As expected, Klink immediately took the opposite tack. "No, Hogan. If LeBeau wants the Gestapo, then the Gestapo he shall have. But Major Hochstetter is in charge of the investigation now, not Captain Lindemann."

"What I have to say is for Captain Lindemann's ears only," LeBeau insisted; then, improvising quickly, "It _concerns_ Major Hochstetter."

Hogan, picking up the hint, looked shocked. "LeBeau, you're not trying to implicate Major Hochstetter in this, are you? I'm shocked. Why, that could be the end of the man's career. He'd be gone before you could organise the farewell party."

The suggestion did its work. The sudden illumination that swept across Klink's face was beautiful. "Enough, Colonel Hogan. If LeBeau wishes to make his statement to Captain Lindemann, who am I to stand in the way?"

He picked up the telephone receiver. Phase one was achieved.

Phase two was in place, as well. Getting out of the emergency tunnel in daylight without being spotted was the hardest part. Once Carter and Kinch had managed that, making the rendezvous was easy.

"Nice car," murmured Kinch. "I guess she can afford it."

"Don't let her see you like it. She'd probably try to sell it to you," replied Carter.

Kinch laughed softly. "I might even buy it."

Aline had changed her look again; she was favouring the black widow style this afternoon. Lessing was still wearing the same clothes as the night before, crumpled and marked with sweat. He kept looking round as if checking for an escape route.

Kinch went forward. "I hope you checked his pockets this time."

She hadn't seen him previously, and she glanced at Carter before replying. "Is Papa Bear not here?"

"He's needed on another part of the operation."

"That's a shame. I liked him. Am I to stay around to see the fun?"

"Better not," Kinch replied. "The less people around, the better."

She smiled. "Give Papa Bear a message for me. Tell him, I'll be watching for him. Kurt, be a good boy and do as these gentlemen ask. Otherwise I may have to deal with you myself, and you don't want that." She kissed Lessing's cheek; he flinched as if she'd slapped him. Then she got back into the car and drove away.

Kinch and Carter took up positions either side of Lessing. He shivered. "What happens now?"

"Now, we wait for the Gestapo," said Kinch.

"Two of 'em," added Carter.

Lessing looked ready to pass out.

* * *

Newkirk was in trouble. He wasn't sure what had gone wrong. After consideration he had decided that he could be of best use if he stayed with LeBeau and Hogan, and he had tried to follow them to the Kommandant's office. And somehow, in the middle of the compound, he had become lost.

He was sure he was still there, and yet he wasn't. His balance shifted, as the pull of gravity seemed to move from beneath his feet to his back. He couldn't move; his arms and legs were dead weight.

For a moment he couldn't understand what was happening to him. Then he realised what it meant.

_Oh, no, not now! _he thought.

He couldn't let himself be dragged away, just when LeBeau might need help. With every scrap of concentration he could find, he fought back. The compound wavered, blurred for a moment, then cleared. But there was something not right about it.

He wasn't sure which way things were going for him at the hospital. But either way, he had a feeling that he didn't have much time.


	16. Chapter 16

They had guessed right about how Lindemann would react to Klink's call. Inside half an hour his car rolled in at the front gate. It was almost a relief. The mere suggestion that Hochstetter might be in for a fall had roused Klink to a degree of enthusiastic curiosity which had tested Hogan's ingenuity, not to speak of LeBeau's ability to preserve a stubborn silence, to the limit.

Newkirk had made it into the office, but his situation was still not good. Whether he was coming round, or whether something not so good was happening to him, he wasn't sure, but it was taking everything he had just to stay there.

The Gestapo captain entered the office without ceremony. He seemed calm and quite in control of himself, but Newkirk thought he could detect anxiety in the look he swept around the room.

Klink greeted him effusively. "Captain Lindemann, so good of you to drop everything..."

"_Heil Hitler_," said the captain.

"What? Oh, yes, of course, _Heil Hitler_, naturally."

"Is this the man?" Lindemann continued, turning his eyes to LeBeau.

"This is Corporal LeBeau. He was present at the incident, and he says he has information..."

Hogan interrupted, sensing that a round of delaying action was called for. "Sir, I repeat, I must protest. LeBeau was badly injured by the explosion. He's delusional. You can't trust a word he says." He looked at Lindemann, and added in a conspiratorial tone, "Last night he tried to tell the other prisoners he was de Gaulle's younger brother."

"Hogan, this has nothing to do with you," Klink began, but Lindemann stopped him.

"Remind me again. Who are you?" he asked.

"Colonel Robert Hogan, senior prisoner of war officer, Captain."

Lindemann regarded him suspiciously. "Do you have any information for me?"

Hogan considered, wondering how far he dared go, then decided to go all out. Anything to buy time. "Only that black isn't your colour. You probably already know that...Oh, you mean about the bombing?"

"Of course." Lindemann didn't even raise an eyebrow. He wasn't going to be so easy to bamboozle.

"Okay, let me think..." Hogan frowned in thought, and pinched at his lower lip. He let it drag out for almost a minute.

Newkirk drifted over towards LeBeau. He brushed past Lindemann, but felt no contact at all. It was as if everything he'd gained in the past four days was slipping away from him.

Klink had started to fidget. "Hogan..." he began nervously. Hogan glared at him, and held up a hand for silence, then began thinking again. Lindemann, he noticed, stayed cool; that was a bad sign.

Finally Hogan spoke. "No, I don't think I have anything to contribute," he said, in a mildly regretful tone.

"Then I will talk to the corporal," Lindemann concluded. "Colonel Klink, please allow us some privacy. And take this man with you."

"Oh, no," said Hogan quickly. "I'm staying. You can't interrogate an Allied prisoner without a senior officer present. And Kommandant Klink is responsible for keeping his prisoners under constant supervision. There's no way he's taking his eyes of LeBeau." He lowered his voice. "That man is the sneakiest little devil ever sent to this camp. The minute the Kommandant's eyes were off him, he'd be gone like a shot. The little ones are always the worst, you know. They can hide easier."

LeBeau sent a reproachful glance at Hogan, then, as Klink and Lindemann turned to look at him, he did his best to look shifty. His best was pretty good, as it happened. Lindemann continued to study him for a moment, then smiled a rather nasty smile. "French, isn't he? Not very big, and injured, as well. I think I can handle him without assistance."

"With respect, Captain, I think Colonel Hogan may have a point...but not a very good one." Klink's half-hearted protest shrivelled at the look Lindemann gave him. "I'm sure you're right. Hogan, we will allow the captain to have a private conversation with LeBeau."

Lindemann turned to Hogan. "Well, Colonel? Will you leave willingly, or must I have you escorted?"

Behind him, seen only by Hogan, LeBeau gave a subtle nod towards the window. He had just seen another car draw up outside. _Hochstetter_, he mouthed.

Well, at least the cavalry had arrived.

* * *

As the second staff car passed through the gate, Kinch turned to Lessing.

"Okay. Now you're going to walk up to the gate and demand to speak to Hochstetter."

"And don't try any funny stuff," added Carter, trying to look menacing, and failing completely.

"That's right. Because I have orders that if you don't do as instructed, I'm to shoot you," said Kinch.

"And he always obeys orders," Carter concluded.

Then, seeing how pale Lessing was, he went on hurriedly. "Don't look so worried. He wouldn't really shoot you. Well, maybe in the leg, but that's not so bad."

Kinch cast up his eyes. "Andrew - shut up. Lessing, go. Just do as we've agreed, and we'll make sure you get out safely. That's a promise."

They watched from the undergrowth, as Lessing walked to the road. He turned back for one quick look, then straightened up, crossed over and marched up to the gate.

"Well, I'll be damned," said Kinch quietly. "He's doing it."

Lessing had attracted the attention of Schultz, who was on patrol at the gate. There was a little discussion; a little hesitation on the part of Schultz, and a determined insistence from Lessing, and then the accountant was admitted to the camp.

"Guess he didn't want to be shot," said Carter. "Even in the leg. I suppose it would sting a bit," he added thoughtfully.

Kinch nodded, hardly paying attention.

"Okay, we're done," he said. "Let's get back inside before someone notices us."

* * *

Hogan had stalled as long as he dared. He was desperate not to leave LeBeau alone with Lindemann, but the captain was losing patience, and Klink had folded completely. Hochstetter still hadn't come to the office; presumably he had been distracted by Lessing's arrival, but it was taking too long.

"Let me make this clear, Colonel Hogan," Lindemann said. "Either I speak to your man here without your interference, or I arrange to transport him to Gestapo headquarters, and speak to him there. The choice is yours."

At all costs the second option had to be avoided. Hogan gave in, with a very poor grace. "Alright. But the Prisoner of War Commission will be hearing about this. I may even write to the _Times_. And the BBC," he added, in a deeply offended tone.

"That might cause me a little embarrassment," replied Lindemann, with a tight smile, "but I think I can stand it." He opened the door, and waited for the two colonels to leave. Hogan took one look at LeBeau, who was pale and apprehensive, but who nodded encouragement. Then he turned and followed Klink. As he left the office, the outer door opened.

"Colonel Klink," said Hochstetter, "I believe that Captain Lindemann...never mind, I see him. You can wait outside, Klink. You as well, Hogan."

"Major Hochstetter," Hogan said quickly, "if you want to talk to the captain, may I take LeBeau back to the barracks?"

"No. You may not," replied Hochstetter. There was an air of triumph about him. He actually looked happy. "LeBeau stays. I may have a few questions for him."

He waved Klink towards the door, and then turned to Hogan. "Outside. Now."

The first person Hogan saw outside was Lessing, standing between two of Hochstetter's men. So he'd made it. But if Lessing recognised him there would be hell to pay. Hogan moved back so that Klink was between him and Lessing, and kept his face averted.

"If that man tries to escape," said Hochstetter to his men, gesturing towards Lessing, "shoot him. And if that man," pointing to Hogan, "tries to enter this building, you can shoot him, too."

Then he disappeared into the Kommandantur, and slammed the door.

He went back into the main office. LeBeau had moved away from the door, instinctively trying to keep as far from Lindemann as he could.

"Stay where you are," Hochstetter told him. "Captain Lindemann, I thought I had made my instructions clear. You were not to have any further dealings with the Allied prisoners in this camp."

"I was sent for, _Herr Major_," Lindemann said sullenly. "This man claimed to have some information. But he was lying. He knows nothing. I was just about to teach him a lesson about wasting Gestapo time."

Hochstetter strolled over to LeBeau. "I don't think that will be necessary, Lindemann." He regarded LeBeau rather scornfully for a few seconds before speaking again. "I have Lessing," he said, turning back towards the captain

Then he froze.

Lindemann was aiming a pistol at him.


	17. Chapter 17

If Hochstetter realised, as he surely must have, that he'd allowed overconfidence to lead him into a potentially disastrous error, at least he recovered quickly from the initial shock. "I wonder what good you think that will do you," he remarked. "We are in the middle of a prison camp, surrounded by guards. How do you propose to get out?"

Lindemann didn't falter. "I'm still considering," he said. "My preferred suggestion is that you escort me out of here - and him as well, " with a nod at LeBeau, "so he can't raise the alarm, and as soon as we're clear, I let you go and head for the border."

LeBeau sent a furious look at Hochstetter. The man had mishandled the situation completely, and had done it in record time. "We'd both be dead as soon as we were out of sight of the camp," he said.

"He is right," said Hochstetter. "You'll have to do better than that, Lindemann."

"I do have another plan," Lindemann replied. "That one involves killing you both, here and now."

"And how are you going to explain that?" Hochstetter had paled, and there was perspiration gleaming on his forehead, but for once in his life he was maintaining a calm demeanour. In spite of himself, LeBeau had to give him credit for that.

Lindemann glanced at LeBeau. "He tried to steal my gun. You were hit by a stray bullet before I overpowered him." He let them both think about that for a moment, then added, "Take your choice, _Herr Major_."

"What about Lessing?"

"Lessing will not be a problem. I'll have plenty of time to deal with him. So, Major Hochstetter, what is your decision?"

Hochstetter turned to LeBeau, as if in consultation. "I say let him shoot us here," he said. "If we're to die anyway, at least let us make it as inconvenient for him as possible."

The last thing LeBeau wanted was to die in the company of Major Hochstetter. The thought, ridiculous as it was, crossed his mind that he'd never live it down. "It will be more than inconvenient," he replied. "I told Klink the whole story before you arrived. Klink reported it to General Burkhalter, by telephone." It was a pretty weak story, but it was all he had.

It gave Lindemann pause, at any rate. Then he laughed. "As if I'd take the word of a dog of a Frenchman."

"Then try mine," said Hochstetter, taking LeBeau's extemporisation and embroidering on it. "Klink _did_ call Burkhalter. Our phone tap picked up the whole conversation. With that, and Lessing, we've got all we need."

Between them, they'd got to him. For a moment he wavered. Then his expression firmed, and he raised the gun. "In that case, I have nothing more to lose, have I?" he said.

Newkirk had already gone for help. He was sure by now that he was on borrowed time. The same disjointed time-lapse effect that had marked his first minutes of consciousness was happening again. There was only one thing left for him to try; he didn't want to do it, and he wasn't certain it would even work, but for LeBeau's sake he had to try. He could only hope Carter would understand, and would forgive him for it.

In the barracks, Kinch and Carter had just come out of the tunnel. "So now what do we do?" asked Carter.

"We wait," Kinch replied. He peered out of the window. "There's Lessing...and Colonel Hogan. I thought he'd still be inside with LeBeau," he added, under his breath.

"Is that bad?"

"It could be," said Kinch.

Carter, looking worried, started to speak, then stopped. Kinch was just in time to catch him as he swayed forward. "Carter, what's wrong?" he said sharply.

He felt Carter clutching at the front of his jacket. "Kinch..." he murmured; then his voice got stronger. "I've done it again. Had to. Sorry - there's no time..."

"Andrew...?" said Kinch; then, in a low, shocked voice, "_Peter..._?"

Carter - or whoever it was - was fighting for breath. "Kinch - you have to get to..." He broke off, and his legs buckled. Only Kinch's support kept him from falling. His eyes closed for a moment. Kinch didn't dare speak.

Then Carter's eyes snapped open. He looked up at Kinch blankly, then, without warning, wrenched himself from Kinch's grip, and ran for the door.

"Carter!" Kinch shouted after him, but he was already racing across the compound towards the Kommandant's office.

Hogan saw him coming, and stepped forward to intercept him, but Carter, normally the most uncoordinated man in the entire camp, dodged past him with a twisting sidestep that would have done credit to any football player. He ducked past Klink, evaded the two guards who were watching Lessing, and barged through the door into the outer office. By the time anyone caught up, he was already through the second door.

Lindemann turned, distracted by the interruption, and Hochstetter ducked, and threw himself to the side, away from where the gun was still aimed. He was not the most nimble of men, either; he collided with LeBeau, and they crashed to the floor. Carter launched himself at Lindemann in a flying tackle, but, being Carter, he did it badly; the man staggered, but stayed upright. The pistol flew from his grip, as Lindemann, who was stronger than he appeared, freed himself from Carter's grasp, and delivered a backhand that sent Carter reeling across the room.

As the captain turned back, Hochstetter's voice stopped him cold. "That will do, Lindemann." He had retrieved the gun, and, still sitting on the floor, had Lindemann covered. "Arrest that man," he ordered the two guards who were now blocking the door, apparently unable to believe their eyes. "No, not that one," impatiently, as they hurried to grab Carter. "_That _one." He gestured towards Lindemann with the pistol.

Hogan had pushed past them, and dropped on one knee beside Carter, who was crouched in front of the desk, breathless and shaking. The guards hauled Lindemann outside, passing Kinch in the outer office. Kommandant Klink was just behind him, trying to work out what had happened, and how many men he was going to send to solitary confinement on the strength of it.

"You alright, Carter?" said Hogan. Carter nodded, but there was a stunned, confused look in his eyes.

"Colonel," said Kinch urgently. He glanced at Hochstetter, then lowered his voice. "It happened again. You remember..." He nodded towards LeBeau, who was trying to get up from the floor, and was having some difficulty.

Hogan didn't take his eyes off Carter. "Check on LeBeau, and if he's okay, get him out of here. Carter, can you stand up?"

"I think so," Carter stammered. He hung on to Hogan's arm as he stood. "Louis...?"

"I'm fine, Carter." LeBeau answered for himself. He didn't look good. Obviously Hochstetter running into him had done some further damage. "I think you just saved my life. "

"And Hochstetter's. Well, nobody's perfect," said Hogan, keeping a firm grip on Carter's elbow . "Come on, let's get you both back to the barracks,"

"One moment, Hogan." Hochstetter, of course. He was watching them with suspicion. "I thought I told you to stay out," he said to Hogan.

"You did. But you didn't give any instructions to Carter," replied Hogan.

Hochstetter's gaze turned to Carter, and Hogan tensed. _If he recognises him..._ he thought.

Whether the major did or not, he wasn't giving anything away. After a moment he turned to LeBeau. "Well?" he said. "What was this information that you dragged us out here for?"

LeBeau's blank expression was a masterpiece. "I didn't have any information. The Kommandant got it wrong."

Klink ventured a feeble protest, which died off in confusion when Hochstetter turned on him with an incoherent snarl.

"Yeah, he's always getting the wrong end of the stick," said Hogan. "LeBeau just wanted to let you know he didn't see anything. But you know Colonel Klink."

"Unfortunately, I do," Hochstetter conceded. "Very well. Your men are dismissed."

"Major Hochstetter," Klink blustered, "I am in command here, and nobody is dismissed until I give the word." He waited just long enough to re-establish his dignity, then muttered, "Dismissed."

"Not you, Hogan," Hochstetter added.

Hogan met Kinch's worried look. "Go on. I'll deal with him," he murmured.

The Kommandant was still hovering. "I never trusted that man," he said. "There was something suspicious about him..."

"Probably the Gestapo uniform. That's always a giveaway," said Hogan.

"Shut up, Klink," Hochstetter snapped. "Your idiocy nearly got me shot."

"Better luck next time," Hogan threw in.

Hochstetter suppressed a furious retort with visible effort. "Klink, why don't you dismiss yourself for a change?" he suggested, in a low growl. "I want a word in private with Colonel Hogan."

Irrepressibly, Hogan murmured, "But, Major, we hardly know each other."


	18. Chapter 18

"I don't know how you managed that, but I'm sure I can find out," said Hochstetter.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Major," replied Hogan.

"Hogan, I could have LeBeau in my own interrogation room in Hammelburg within an hour on the basis of what happened in here," Hochstetter went on. "I could take Carter as well. I know it was him I saw in Hammelburg two nights ago. Do you think I couldn't break one or the other, in time? To say nothing of your man Newkirk, when he recovers. If he recovers."

Hogan let the last part of that fall dead. It had hit home, but he knew it was a shot in the dark. Hochstetter was bluffing about Newkirk, but LeBeau and Carter were another matter. With an effort - he was close to exhaustion, and reaction was setting in - Hogan set his obstruction strategy in motion.

"Carter was in town?" he asked. "I'm appalled. I can promise you, I'll be having a word with him. He knows he's to be home before dark on school nights."

"Don't play games with me, Hogan."

"Well, I'm sorry, Major, but it's a ridiculous suggestion. Carter hasn't been out of camp since the work detail. Ask the Kommandant, if you don't believe me. Or Sergeant Schultz."

Hochstetter snorted. "Schultz wouldn't notice if all the prisoners went to Paris for the weekend," he remarked.

"Of course he would. We'd send him a postcard," said Hogan. Then, forestalling Hochstetter's reply, he added quickly. "Major, I've already explained about LeBeau. And as for Carter, even if your suspicion had any grounds at all - which it doesn't - what about common gratitude? It's down to him that you're still alive, and you know it."

Hochstetter scowled. "We don't allow ourselves luxuries like gratitude in the Gestapo, Hogan." But he considered the point, then went on, with obvious reluctance. "I will leave your men this time. It won't be long before I have another opportunity. You take too many risks. You may go."

Hogan turned, and prepared to leave. "Oh, by the way, Major Hochstetter," he said, over his shoulder. "Were you planning to take that man Lessing back to Hammelburg for interrogation? You're not going to question him here, are you?"

"Of course I will take him to Hammelburg," said Hochstetter; then, deeply distrustful, "Why do you want to know?"

"Oh, no reason," murmured Hogan, looking smug. "No reason at all." He gave the major a grin, and strolled out. With any luck, Hochstetter would become suspicious, and interrogate Lessing at Stalag 13 before transferring him to Hammelburg. Then the Underground could set about rescuing Lessing as agreed, without undermining the case against Lindemann. Hogan was determined to make that stick, whatever else happened.

He returned to the barracks, trying to remember the last time he'd felt this weary. Inside it was quiet. Unexpectedly, LeBeau, who should have been resting, was walking back and forth, obviously in quite a lot of pain but too agitated to keep still. He was clearly upset, and Carter, sitting at the table, looked completely distraught. Hogan stopped dead.

It took a few seconds for him to find his voice. "Where's Kinch?" he asked, very quietly.

LeBeau nodded towards the tunnel entrance. "He's calling the hospital."

Carter took a deep breath. "He's gone," he said. "Newkirk's gone. He's not here any more. Colonel, he's gone."

Hogan couldn't say a word. He looked at LeBeau, who threw up his hand in a gesture of despair, and shook his head.

Carter was still speaking. "He was here. When we got back, he was here, and he showed me...I don't know how, but he let me see what was happening to Louis. Then he was gone. And I just had to run, because there was no time, but I knew he was gone."

"He showed you?" Hogan said.

"It was like he got inside my head, and I saw what he saw. Just for a second. But then..." Carter trailed off.

Hogan felt dazed. This couldn't happen, not now. _Damn it_, he thought. _He never even spoke to me!_

The silence was broken by the rattle of the bunk going up. Hogan turned around, slowly. For a moment - just for a moment - he didn't want to know.

Then Kinch appeared. He was breathless, and almost speechless. But he was smiling. For the third time, he was the bearer of good news.

It took him a couple of seconds to get the words out, and relief made his voice two whole tones lower than usual. "He's awake. He started showing signs early this morning, and he came round while we were taking care of Lindemann. The doctors are still with him, that's why it took me so long to get anything from them. Colonel, he's woken up."

Nobody moved for several seconds. Then Carter's head went down onto his folded arms. LeBeau's eyes were shining; he fell, rather than sat, on the nearest bunk. "He made it," he whispered. "He made it, _mon Colonel_."

Hogan nodded. His feelings went too deep for him to speak. But he met Kinch's eye, and smiled, and he knew that the guys would understand.

* * *

Newkirk was coming home. Well, coming back to Stalag 13, anyway. The doctors, and the Gestapo, had finally cleared him for release, and Schultz had been sent to fetch him.

"I wonder if he remembers anything," said Kinch.

"I guess we'll find out, when he gets here," Hogan replied. "If he doesn't...well, let's not stir things up, for now."

The four of them - Hogan, Kinch, LeBeau and Carter - were loitering outside the barracks. LeBeau was recovering well, even allowing for the setback caused by the collision with Hochstetter. He had just taken up his culinary duties again, and was even starting to pressure Hogan to let him go out and meet the next lot of escapees.

They hadn't talked much about Newkirk's part in recent events. There was a kind of embarrassment, a sense that the whole uncanny situation, now that it was over, was best left alone. Hogan had explained the possession incident to LeBeau, and he was pretty sure LeBeau had told Carter, to set his mind at rest over his own similar experience. But that was all.

Lessing was already in Geneva, and no doubt would soon be putting his book-keeping skills to use in banking circles. That aspect of the case still troubled Hogan, but he didn't lose sleep over it. Lessing would get his comeuppance, sooner or later. His kind always did.

They had not been able to find out Lindemann's fate, once he'd been removed to Berlin.

"There they are," said Carter. "Boy, Klink sent the good car for him and everything."

"Great. He'll be expecting it all the time from now on," Hogan replied.

As Newkirk got out of the car, the Kommandant came out of his office. He regarded his returned prisoner with an almost benevolent eye. "Corporal Newkirk," he said. "Welcome back."

"Thank you, sir," said Newkirk. He was thin, and pale, but spoke with his usual cockiness. "Feels like I've hardly been away."

Hogan, coming up in time to hear this, regarded him thoughtfully, but Newkirk's expression seemed perfectly transparent.

"I trust you are fully recovered," the Kommandant went on. "Because there will be no special treatment. You may have had it soft while you've been in hospital, but you're back under my discipline now."

"Absolutely right, Kommandant," said Hogan. "And I'll be happy to explain it to the Red Cross, when they start asking questions."

Klink hesitated. "Why should the Red Cross be interested?"

"I'm sure I don't know," replied Hogan. "Just because Newkirk was seriously injured, due to the criminal action of one of the Gestapo, while on a work detail which you ordered...seems perfectly normal to me. But they can be a bit fussy, you know. And he doesn't look well. You don't, you know, Newkirk."

"Just a bit of a headache, Colonel. It comes and goes," said Newkirk. "Matter of fact, it's coming on now, sir. It's the sunlight. It's so bright." He put his hand up to shade his eyes, and put on an expression of meek suffering.

Hogan put his hand on Newkirk's shoulder, as if to support him. "Don't overdo it," he murmured.

Klink wavered, then gestured impatiently. "Oh, take him away, Hogan. He's excused all work activities for one week. Dismissed." He turned, and went back inside.

"You're all heart, Kommandant," said Hogan. "Good to have you back, Newkirk," he added quietly.

"Never thought I'd say this, sir," Newkirk admitted, "but it's good to be back. I don't know what it is - the atmosphere, or the home comforts, or the moonlight shining on the barbed wire - but I missed the place."

The others came to greet them as they walked back to the barracks. LeBeau welcomed Newkirk boisterously; Kinch, as always, was quieter but unmistakeably sincere. Carter held back, almost seeming a little shy.

"Okay, keep it down," said Hogan, once they were inside. "LeBeau, enough."

Newkirk took a seat, and looked around. "You didn't end up redecorating, then."

"No, we couldn't agree on a colour scheme." Hogan leaned back against one of the bunks. Kinch joined him, while LeBeau, too excited to settle down, began rummaging in his store cupboard.

"Anything you want for dinner tonight, Newkirk, I will make it," he promised. That was enough to set off a heated discussion on the relative merits of French and English cuisine. It seemed unlikely that common ground would be reached.

"What do you think, Colonel?" Kinch murmured. "Does he know?"

Hogan tilted his head a little. "Not sure."

"Okay, LeBeau, just make whatever you want to. You always do, anyway," Newkirk was saying. "Just don't put too much garlic in, is all I ask." He turned to Carter, who was still lingering by the door, looking at once happy and slightly anxious. "You're not saying much, Andrew. Thought you'd be pleased to see me."

"I am," said Carter. "Really. It's only..." He broke off, and looked at Hogan as if seeking enlightenment on what he should and shouldn't say.

Newkirk regarded him affectionately. "Carter, come here. Have a seat. Now, you look as if you've got something on your mind. Let's have it."

The anxiety deepened in Carter's eyes. He hesitated, glanced at Hogan again, then murmured, "I haven't got anything on my mind, Newkirk. It's just really good to see you."

"And it's good to see you, too. I've been thinking about you, while I was away," Newkirk went on, "and it occurred to me that, if I hadn't pulled through - well, Andrew, in case anything ever happens again, there's a bit of brotherly advice that I'd like to pass on to you, and I want you to remember it, because it'll be very useful."

"Okay," said Carter uncertainly.

"Two things, Andrew." Newkirk put an arm around Carter's shoulders, and spoke sincerely. "First, when I tell you someone's got a knife in his pocket, you listen to me. And second, don't you ever sleep in my bunk again."

Newkirk glanced towards Hogan, and winked. LeBeau was giggling helplessly; Kinch's shoulders shook, and a slow smile dawned on Carter's face. Hogan was smiling, too, and his eyes met Newkirk's, in complete understanding.

He had his team back. Properly this time.


End file.
